


White Lilies

by NorthStar



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: .... kind of, Apocalypse, Dystopia, KiHo Bingo, M/M, flowershop au, part three of i need to stop, shit times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 07:41:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11664639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorthStar/pseuds/NorthStar
Summary: Hoseok's flowershop at the end of the world isn't really that special, but he makes do with what he has - because people will always need flowers, and Hoseok will be there to give it to them.Until one day he refuses, and suddenly, everything spirals out of control as Kihyun is brought back into his life.





	White Lilies

**Author's Note:**

> For the "Flowershop AU" in the Kiho bingo square. It feels like a WIP to me tbh but I really wanted to post it all at once and today is the last day so... Oops. Summary isn't worth looking at, if you still clicked, kudos for you.
> 
> Also, you can give me a fluffy prompt but I will turn it into a depressing mess. This is not the flowership au anyone wanted or deserved, but there you go.
> 
> WARNINGS (and spoilers): violence, blood, slight body horror, character death, unspecified lung disease, slight consent issues. If you notice anything else I haven't tagged, do let me know!

 

 

 

Calling the flower shop pretty would be a lie. But calling it ugly would also be a lie.

 

It is just simply there.

 

Not even on the corner of the street, but anonymously placed somewhere near the middle with dirty windows and a torn piece of paper in lieu of a proper sign at the door. The neighbours have long since escaped, with no one left to maintain or even look at the worn façade with its scorch marks, dirt, broken plaster and peeling paint. The flower shop is dingy, dark and abandoned, much like the rest of the city.

 

The necessary consequence of a country hit by nuclear disaster.

 

But, if nothing else, Hoseok muses, it means he doesn’t have to fight for his customers.

 

 _Wonho’s Flowers_ is not exactly prospering – that term is foreign in desperate times where days pass by trying to stave off inevitable decay, rather than seek fortunes – but it is surviving. Lonely, the only remnant on this street and possibly this side of the city, but that’s fine. Hoseok knows how to get by on his own and from the few visits he gets every now and then from other scavengers, scoundrels, unscrupulous survivors. He makes a living and sleeps at night, something most people can’t brag about these days.

 

It’s alright.

 

He’s doing alright.

 

And all things considered, that’s probably all he could ever ask for.

 

The inside of the flower shop is hardly any better than its exterior, but at least it has a semblance of life to it – courtesy of Hoseok himself, rather than any particular signs of vitality from the interior.

 

The walls in the shop are mostly barren, rugged and dirty brown like the rest of the city, and the clotted windows obscure any light from the outside, scarce as it may be – has been, ever since the occasional grey cloud was chased away by eternal green smog. There is an oil lamp hanging from the ceiling, and it works decently enough, Hoseok finds, but he still keeps a candle by his desk and a flashlight in his pocket, just in case.

 

Not that it matters much. He knows the shop inside-out by now, and he is the only one who ever spends more than a few minutes inside the confined space, most customers disappearing in the blink of an eye once they get their goods.

 

They don’t spend time looking at Hoseok’s lifeline – judging his walls and limited furniture and pitiful attempts at making it homely. Not even his, but the previous owner, a lifetime ago. No one is really interested in seeing the old, ugly picture of a little girl in a garden of sunflowers on the back wall, or the faded, muddy carpet behind the counter, serving only the poor purpose of silencing creaking floors now.

 

He keeps track of his stock, but not a soul needs to consult the cupboards and shelves besides Hoseok. He doesn’t keep anything on display – doesn’t need to. The customers can ask him, and he will know his selection by heart. It’s not much, admittedly – it’s just enough.

 

Most of it, he keeps stashed in the back rooms, below his bed and beneath the old sink in the kitchen, some even in the alcove above the clogged toilet. He makes do with the space he has, and it works out alright for him.

 

It’s enough to keep him fed and breathing for another day, which is a lot more than some others in the city can claim. And whenever he does get noteworthy profits, he knows how to make the most of it, and where it can be put to use in the best way.

 

It’s a relatively monotonous existence, but as Hoseok has learnt to appreciate, monotonous is better than volatile and dangerous. He’s not exactly safe from the world outside, or the threats that come with merely stepping outside, but at least he doesn’t have to worry about long-term resource dependency and survival.

 

People will always need flowers.

 

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

 

The bell whines as a customer steps through the door.

 

He is a middle-aged man, almost a rarity these days, although the cancerous tumor grotesquely sticking out of his neck suggests he will soon cease to exist as well. Hoseok has seen his type before, come to make the most out of their time, however futile it will be – they won’t leave a legacy or measure behind, they won’t make a difference, and no one will remember them.

 

And yet they try – they have nothing to lose. Nothing to lose, nothing to gain, only the momentary pleasure of doing something worthwhile with the last power of their brief, miserable lives.

 

“What can I get you today, sir?” He asks, fiddling with the sharp knife on the counter as the phrase of mock politeness slips out by habit. A poor imitation of traditions only remembered through whispered elegies and lewd jokes.

 

“A geranium,” the man huffs, grimly.

 

Hoseok smiles.

 

“A wise choice, sir,” he says amicably. “Geraniums, classic. Small. sturdy, faithful, not the most beautiful flower, but surely one you will be happy with for a long time.”

 

“Yes.” He doesn’t sound impressed, but not exactly impatient either. Just resigned. Accepting.

 

Hoseok says, ‘long time’ as if that actually means something, when they both know it is a blatant lie.

 

“What colour do you want, sir?”

 

“What do you have?”

 

“Unfortunately, I’m low on stock for geraniums, I’m afraid – “ Hoseok pauses, winks. “Poor times, you know. Soil isn’t too good.”

 

“I can imagine.” He probably can.

 

“I only have white and red today, if it pleases you,” Hoseok shrugs. “Both very suitable for general purposes, it’s all up to taste, really. The white is lighter, but the red is smooth and more elegant.”

 

The man nods, wincing as the movement tugs at the skin by his tumor.

 

“Is there a price difference?” He asks, eventually.

 

“There is,” Hoseok admits. “Red is slightly more costly, not by much, but if you are into aesthetics you might prefer that one. Although by itself, the white is pretty enough, the stem is just as colourful and strong as the red one, and you will find it easier to manage. With that said, both are good quality flowers, and I could easily recommend either.”

 

“The wallet speaks in this case,” the man says then. “I’m no connoisseur, if you say they’re both good I’ll settle for the cheaper option.”

 

Hoseok bows, and steps out from behind the counter to open a cupboard in the corner, rummaging through the shelves and shifting his goods slightly to find what the customer wants.

 

And there it is. Tucked away neatly at the bottom, discreetly, almost innocent resting on its black, soft bed.

 

Hoseok takes it out and brings it to the customer.

 

“There you go, sir,” he nods. “One white geranium for the good gentleman. That will be twenty-one coins please.”

 

The customer throws the money on the table, uneven and in a variety of colours – but each worth the same amount, in the end. Hoseok counts the number with his eyes as the man takes the ivory gun and walks out without a word.

 

“Thank you for your business, come again later!”

 

***

 

The wind is howling outside, and rain patters against Hoseok’s covered windows to create a nice, soothing rhythm. Hoseok is lounging on the old straw chair behind the counter, cleaning his knife and humming softly to himself.

 

It’s around midday, and while he hasn’t had any clients yet, he waits patiently. Sometimes, he can go days without any interactions with people, while other periods are almost full of customers, racking up almost one a day.

 

It has been steady lately, but if he doesn’t get anyone soon, he’ll take a break and go outside for a little hunt.

 

Then the door swings open for a woman, slightly older than Hoseok, ten times more worn by the streets. Her hair is long, but tufted and knotted, barely kept in check by a dirty rag that looks like it doubles as a utility cloth, and her clothes hang from her frame like blankets.

 

She saunters up to Hoseok with a slight limp, chin held high and nose flaring, as if completely unfazed by the hardships outside, the fragility of her life, the arbitrariness of her existence. As if she actually means something.

 

It’s not Hoseok’s place to judge.

 

He stands up and gives her a pleasant smile.

 

“I want an oriental lily, orange, with white,” the customer says, quietly, as if divulging a great secret, and with absolutely no preamble.

 

Hoseok considers her twitchy fingers, the blood under her nails. The missing pinky and harsh scar stretching along her ring finger.

 

He looks up again.

 

“It’s an expensive flower, for customers who know what they want,” Hoseok muses, observing the woman carefully. Her eyes twitch. “Do you have the means to pay for this?”

 

The woman throws a long knife unto the table.

 

It’s clean, sharp but simple, the edge glinting orange and white in the flickering candlelight. Handle is nothing special – solid, oiled oak wrapped with a leather cord, sturdy and good, but by no means anything unique.

 

Hoseok looks up when he finished his inspection with a small frown. “This isn’t enough for a plain lily, let alone an oriental. I can give you a decent Georgine, but that’s it.”

 

The woman huffs, and edges closer to the desk – closer to Hoseok. Her eyes soften, just a little bit, just enough to appear inviting, but never vulnerable, and she doesn’t look away from Hoseok for a second.

 

“I can make the payment in other ways,” she says, tries to purr, but it sounds like an ugly rasp instead. “You can test it on me… Do whatever you want…”

 

She pulls up her sleeve as she says it, revealing pale, bruised skin and skinny wrists, drags her knee across the front of the desk with the quiet sound of fabric shifting against uneven wood.

 

Hoseok looks her up and down with pursed lips.

 

“I take my payment in goods or money,” he says, slowly, but with determination. “You don’t have the money, you don’t get the flower.”

 

The woman stares at him, almost incredulous, mostly angry. As if Hoseok’s rejection is the greatest insult she could ever receive, her worst nightmare.

 

Hoseok is steadfast.

 

He matches her furious eyes with an equally determined stoic glance, waiting and biding his time, until her resolve falters, and she lets out a loud sigh.

 

“I need _something_ ,” she bites out, grinding her fingernails into the old wood. “I need the best you can give me.”

 

“The best I can give you for this payment is probably not up to your standards, from the sounds of it. If you can get more, you can come back later and I can save something for you – “

 

“No,” the woman shakes her head. “It can’t wait, it – it has to be today.”

 

She doesn’t specify, and Hoseok doesn’t ask.

 

He already knows.

 

“I suggest a Georgine or even a small bouquet of Carnations,” Hoseok shrugs.

 

“Which one carries the most petals?”

 

“The Georgine.”

 

“Then I’ll take that one.”

 

Hoseok smiles again and bows.

 

“As you wish.”

 

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

 

Hoseok is almost asleep, almost caught off guard when the door opens next.

 

The customer looks ordinary, very ordinary, glancing around the little shop uncertainly as Hoseok automatically stands up to greet him properly.

 

“Good afternoon, sir,” he says with a small smile. “What can I do for you today? A red rose, Amaryllis or maybe even a stash of lavender?”

 

“I just need a cactus.” How boring.

 

Hoseok’s smile falls just a little bit.

 

“Alright, we have that as well,” he shrugs, the faux friendliness hitching just a little bit. “What kind do you need?”

 

Customers looking for cacti are Hoseok’s least favourite. So plain, require basically no maintenance or understanding, no finesse, just raw brutality for a cheap price. Usually bought by the most desperate and least resourceful customers, the ones who have given up before they even came to Hoseok’s flower shop.

 

Nonetheless, customers are customers, and their entertainment value cannot dictate Hoseok’s willingness to do business with them – he has to survive as well.

 

“Uhm, what kind – “ the man shakes his head, blows his nose on a brown tissue. “I – I dunno, just a… A good one, I guess.”

 

“I’m afraid I need a little bit more to go on,” Hoseok says. “Compact, thin? Long, short? Straight, double-armed…?”

 

“Uhh…” It’s clear that the man doesn’t know what he’s doing. He doesn’t know what he’s looking for, and he doesn’t know the language of flowers.

 

Hoseok takes pity on him.

 

“How much money do you have?”

 

“Fifteen coins?”

 

“Alright.” For his ignorance, that is a decent sum. Hoseok turns around and pulls out a box from the shelf behind the counter. Shifts through the contents carefully, until he finds the long knife with the leather cord wrapped around an oaken shaft.

 

He pulls it out of the skin pouch and puts it on the desk.

 

“This one is eleven coins,” he says. “Inelegant, but it will do the job well. You don’t need anything besides the pot either. But be careful – if you don’t mind where you keep it, you might get pricked.”

 

“Right.” The man looks at the knife, at Hoseok, then back at the knife. He wants to haggle, Hoseok can tell, but his limited knowledge would put him at a disadvantage in no time.

 

And Hoseok is steadfast.

 

“Eleven coins, was it?”

 

Hoseok nods.

 

“Okay. I’ll take it.”

 

As Hoseok knew he would.

 

The man wanders out of his store with his new purchase safely tucked under his arm, and when Hoseok ties a scarf around his mouth and goes for a walk in the dusk that night, he isn’t surprised to find the very same knife discarded next to a crumpled body just on the other side of the block. The knife is dyed the same shade of muted red as the body’s neck. 

 

Hoseok wipes the knife off on a brown piece of cloth sticking out of the body’s jacket before walking back to his shop.

 

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

 

The next man that steps through the door is young.

 

“I need some pesticide,” he says with a pleasant smile –

 

And Hoseok looks up sharply.

 

Pesticide.

 

“I don’t sell pesticide,” he says, with a small smile of his own – forced, crooked, but as convincing as he can make it.

 

The customer does not buy it.

 

“Really?” He says, frowning a little, wrinkling his brows in mock confusion. “No, that’s not what I heard. I heard you had the best pesticide. Why won’t you sell it to me?”

 

“Why do you need pesticide?”

 

“To get rid of vermin,” he shrugs, and lets out a harsh cough. “Infesting… The garden. Isn’t that what you usually get pesticide for?”

 

“Yes,” Hoseok agrees drily, and he has half a mind to offer the customer a glass of water for the loud cough. He doesn’t. “But whoever you’re buying that pesticide for isn’t only going to clean up his own garden.”

 

The customer’s gaze turns hard. 

 

“Did you not think I would see right through you?” Hoseok scoffs and pulls a small knife from its position embedded in the counter, starts playing with it – rolling the handle between his fingers subtly, idly enough. “You have no need for pesticide, and anyone who wants to buy it is up to no good. I thought better of you than that – Yoo Kihyun.”

 

The name twitches a nerve, curves an eyebrow at the accusatory tone. When he frowns, Hoseok is taken back in time, because he has seen that particular frown – the wrinkle between his brows and narrowing of dark, intelligent eyes – about a million times before.

 

In a way, he looks just the same. Hoseok could never not recognize Kihyun, not after a childhood spent together, dangerous teenage years teetering on the edge of death and passionate moments in dark, cold alleys when they pretended the world wasn’t out to get them.

 

He still looks the same, but there is something more to him now.

 

Still pale, with shaggy dark hair and high cheekbones, far from bulky but the scrawniness has given way to something less fragile. He looks –

 

Strong.

 

“Wonho isn’t a good name for you,” Kihyun fires back, voice devoid of the warmth velvet Hoseok remembers, instead carrying only cool acid. “Or did Hoseok forget who he used to be?”

 

“I was not the one who left,” Hoseok shakes his head slowly, never looking away from Kihyun’s eyes. “If you come to my shop asking for trouble after all this time, I think you are the one who needs to remember where we came from.”

 

“I do,” Kihyun snorts. “But we have very different opinions about where that path led us.”

 

Hoseok pauses, looks over Kihyun once more.

 

He had always been slight, but never a pushover – in many ways, he was braver and stronger than Hoseok. Even as a child, Kihyun was headstrong and determined, clever and pragmatic almost to a fault, but never cowardly.

 

And never cold.

 

Never uncaring.

 

“Evidently.” Hoseok looks down at Kihyun’s boots. Smeared in indistinguishable brown, grey, red. Heavy, but good, still smaller than most footwear scavenged from the streets, and far easier to wear.  Kinder than Hoseok’s boots. Kinder than the boots Kihyun had when they walked, lived, and drew breaths together – in a too distant timeline.

 

Hoseok wonders where Kihyun got those boots. Wonders where they have taken him – what they have seen, what Kihyun has done, where they were before him.

 

But then again, he doesn’t actually want to know.

 

Kihyun is not about to disclose that to him anyway, not now. Not like this, when he has come to Hoseok asking for _that –_

“I’m glad you’re still in good health, though,” Kihyun says, eyes leaving Hoseok in favour of traveling around the shop, sauntering about as he looks at the cupboards, the shelves, the walls and the barred windows. “You look like you’re doing better than most people.”

 

“Maybe I am.”

 

“And you don’t see fit to share some of that wealth with less fortunate souls?”

 

There it is. The sharp, stinging tone Kihyun had developed so early on, the edge that could make anyone feel uneasy, even coming from a young child. It used to be Hoseok’s ally, and they used to have the same end goals.

 

It could still be like that, but Kihyun is the one who has changed teams.

 

“Funny you should say that,” Hoseok says, but doesn’t elaborate. He shouldn’t need to.

 

But Kihyun isn’t paying attention to him anymore, instead examining a board with two big, red circles and countless small puncture holes.

 

Selectively deaf and strategically annoying. It’s something Hoseok knows well.

 

Kihyun is terribly clever, but he can also play dumb if it suits him.

 

When he turns back to Hoseok, he isn’t smiling anymore, but not exactly frowning either.

 

Just expectant.

 

“Is it the Rhino?” Hoseok asks casually, even though the question is anything but casual, and starts fiddling with his knife again. Kihyun knows exactly how capable Hoseok is with a knife – has seen it firsthand several times – and takes the threat for what it is.

 

But the tension in his jaw tells Hoseok that he isn’t going to back down this easily.

 

“Does it matter to you who I work for?” Kihyun says, putting an almost pleasant lilt to his voice that sends a nasty tingling down Hoseok’s ears.

 

“I like to know my clients.”

 

“That never mattered to you before.”

 

“It always matters to me. But the circulation of regular flowers is fluid and uncontrollable, so I don’t care for meddling in customers’ wishes. This, on the other hand…”

 

“Why is this different?” Kihyun asks, almost haughty, daring Hoseok to come up with an argument.

 

It is strange, because Kihyun should know why. He should know exactly what argument Hoseok is going to use, and exactly why it matters.

 

Kihyun shouldn’t talk as if the consequences are irrelevant.

 

He should know they are not.

 

Or else he is not even comparable to the Kihyun, the sweet, courageous Hoseok would once give his life for.

 

Suddenly, Hoseok is very tired.

 

He hasn’t seen Kihyun for ages, and he could look forward to their eventual reunion – slim as the odds were, with all the dangers out there.

 

But this…

 

This is something Hoseok cannot abide by, and it almost pains him that Kihyun has come back to him only to ask for _that._

“I’m about to close,” he says, tone steely. “Please leave, Kihyun.”

 

“But the pesticide – “

 

“No.” Hoseok marches over to the door, drags Kihyun along with him by the elbow. And Kihyun, despite his protests, follows easily enough, still so light and small in Hoseok’s hands as he has always been. “Good bye, Kihyun.”

 

Kihyun pauses by the door, hesitates with his fingers on the handle. Then he looks back at Hoseok.

 

“I’ll be back.”

 

“Okay.”

 

And with one final, almost wistful look at Hoseok, Kihyun braces his shoulders and walks out.

 

Hoseok closes the door after him, but remains standing there, breathing hard and heavy.

 

Kihyun.

 

Kihyun is back, at last.

 

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

 

He sighs and leans against the wall, sliding down to the floor as images of Kihyun’s face, Kihyun’s smile, the _real_ one, flashes before his eyes. Marred by new scars and bruises, but still Kihyun.

 

Somehow.

 

Hoseok shakes his head.

 

Maybe it will make more sense in the morning.

 

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

 

Kihyun does come back, a few days later.

 

He is smiling, radiating almost – but it’s still not the same smile Hoseok remembers from years ago, when they were so small, when they were two halves of a nibbled whole.

 

“Hi, Hoseok,” Kihyun says when he walks up to the counter. “Fancy seeing you here.”

 

“Fancy seeing me in my own shop,” Hoseok agrees. “What can I get you, Kihyun? Daisies? Sunflowers, maybe a Forget-Me-Not?”

 

Kihyun exhales sharply, smile a little bit more genuine at Hoseok’s teasing.

 

But only a little.

 

“No, I’m here for pesticide,” he says sweetly. “Rumour has it you’ve got some.”

 

“Rumour is lying.”

 

“Don’t be like that,” Kihyun pouts, reaching out to poke Hoseok’s nose with a long, thin finger. “Not even for old times’ sake?”

 

“Old times,” Hoseok snorts.

 

Whatever that means now – whatever Kihyun intends for it to mean. Hoseok knows a lot of things about what they were, to each other and in the world, but that is not for Kihyun to contaminate.

 

That was then, this is now.

 

Hoseok smiles, pleasantly, and walks around the counter.

 

Kihyun stands up straighter than he ever did before, but he is still shorter than Hoseok – not much, just enough for him to fall under Hoseok’s shadow in a pleasant mold. When Hoseok raises a hand to lift Kihyun’s chin, it’s only a slight little movement, just enough to keep Kihyun from scowling up at him.

 

Just enough to align with Hoseok’s lips as he presses a kiss to Kihyun’s mouth.

 

Nothing big, just a reminder of what they used to have, before – Kihyun’s aggressive fire and Hoseok’s gentle passion, sweet and hungry all at once. When they would take turns ravaging each other and testing their limits, wearing themselves out and locking the door to their own little world until all that was left were loving smiles and thankful touches.

 

Back when all they had was each other, when the hopelessness didn’t matter and they stood together against the world.

 

Hoseok misses that.

 

Kihyun’s lips are just as dry and chapped as he remembers, but still plump and warm and soft, still tasting the same, still so eager to meet his, if only for a brief second. Instinctively, probably, they part just a little, an invitation, enough for Hoseok to grab if he wants to.

 

And he could.

 

He does want to.

 

Years ago, Hoseok wouldn’t hesitate or even keep Kihyun wondering like this. Kihyun was always the tease, not him. But now, when Hoseok feels Kihyun drawing closer, slyly, discreetly leeching on Hoseok’s body heat –

 

But Kihyun is not in control anymore.

 

Hoseok is.

 

And yet Kihyun tries, putting a careful hand to Hoseok’s chest and nipping at his lips gently. Tips his head slightly to give Hoseok better access, making himself pliant despite his infamous defiance and firm aggression - small gestures of neediness, submission.

 

Hoseok smirks when he takes a step back.

 

“You’re still not getting the pesticide,” he says, watches for a second as Kihyun’s flustered surprise turns to annoyance. It wasn’t often that Hoseok could catch Kihyun off-guard like this – usually it was the other way around, but Hoseok can’t say the change is entirely unwelcome.

 

He sees the argument building through Kihyun’s frustration, but when he opens his mouth to tell Hoseok off, he leans to the side with a sudden jerk, bringing his hands up to cover a grinding cough. It’s violent, wrecking Kihyun’s body with lurches from his knees to shoulders, and Hoseok can’t help but wince in sympathy.

 

“Fuck…” He hears Kihyun mutter breathlessly as the fit subsides. All colour has drained from his face, and for a second, he looks nothing but sickly. Pale, drawn and tired, and, Hoseok realizes with a start, so much like the rest of his clients – the rest of the damaged people in this city.

 

He knows what that means.

 

And suddenly, he is gripped with something more than disappointment in Kihyun – something much more dangerous and painful.

 

But whatever it is, he doesn’t have the time to process it for long, because Kihyun stands up again and takes a shaky breath, looking anywhere but Hoseok as he licks his lips.

 

“I…” He starts slowly, and his voice is raspy and tired and anything but soft and pleasant, all of a sudden. “I have to go.”

 

And before Hoseok even has the time to react, he disappears out the door, leaving Hoseok befuddled, confused, and –

 

It clicks.

 

He is scared.

 

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

 

Hoseok has a normal week with normal customers, normal scavenging trips, normal, lethal radiation residue.

 

And then at the end of it, after Hoseok has had the time to calm down and reevaluate his emotions towards Kihyun’s return, the door opens to a familiar sight.

 

Kihyun looks more disheveled than he did last time, clothes still hanging limply on him but he doesn’t carry himself the same way, which makes them look so much more pitiful. He walks slowly, with carefully measured breaths, and his eyes are slightly glazed.

 

Hoseok clicks his tongue in sympathy.

 

“You don’t look very good,” he comments, honestly.

 

And he guesses he kind of deserves the glare he receives in return.

 

“In case it has escaped your notice, Hoseok, the world outside is kind of shitty right now,” Kihyun remarks, and while his voice has mostly recovered, it’s still not the same deep, soft trill Hoseok is used to.

 

It’s a little bit unsettling, but so is Kihyun’s entire demeanor these days.

 

“Must’ve been busy,” Hoseok says, in an effort to keep the conversation rolling. He doesn’t know why that’s important – Kihyun was the one who came to him, after all.

 

But by the looks of it, Kihyun shouldn’t have gone anywhere today.

 

“What about that pesticide, Hoseok?” There it is. “We both know you have it. My employer really wants it, and we pay good money. Please. It will be a huge help to – “

 

“No,” Hoseok interrupts him, firmly. “I’m not going to sell you that. It’s dangerous, and especially in the Rhino’s hands. You know this, Kihyun.”

 

“I do…” Kihyun agrees, letting out a small cough. “But I – you don’t understand, Hoseok. It’s important. We’re not going to hurt you.”

 

“It’s not just me, you know,” Hoseok says. “He will target parts of the city – parts that you and I know he cannot be allowed to touch. I don’t know why it should matter to you, but it’s not – “

 

Hoseok’ argument is cut off as Kihyun crumples in on himself, coughs taking over his body and wrecking him, just like before, coming out as harsh gasps and twitches despite the obvious efforts Kihyun makes to try and suppress it. He whips out a handkerchief from his pocket and puts it to his mouth, but his hands tremble with the grip.

 

The sight slices at something in Hoseok’s chest as well, and he can’t stand still and watch this.

 

Whatever else Kihyun is, does and says, he is still dear to Hoseok.

 

He scurries around the counter to grab a hold of Kihyun’s shoulders, steadying him as the coughs escalate and make his knees tremble. It doesn’t sound good, and Kihyun is swaying even in Hoseok’s grip, the handkerchief in his hand threatening to fall.

 

“Hey, sit down for a second,” Hoseok says quietly, kindly, and guides Kihyun to the back wall and the little stool there. Almost to his surprise, Kihyun acquiesces – he has always been proud and unwilling to be patronized, and Hoseok did not expect his new life to make him more inclined to accept help in cases like these.

 

Maybe the pain is just that bad.

 

The thought festers as an uncomfortable knot in Hoseok’s stomach.

 

Kihyun practically collapses in the stool, and lets his back fall against the wall as the coughs subside.

 

“Okay?” Hoseok asks, one hand still on Kihyun’s shoulder. It’s a futile question, because Kihyun is not okay – has probably not been for a while, much like anyone else in this country. Hoseok is lucky, has escaped the fallout so far, but he is among the minority – for now.

 

Kihyun seems to agree, because he glares up at Hoseok from beneath wet lashes and ruffled hair, but the annoyance is tired and not full of Kihyun’s regular fire. Normally, Kihyun would have brushed him off, told him he was being stupid, accused Hoseok of being hopeless even after twenty years together.

 

But the years have not been kind to Kihyun, and whatever retort he had on his tongue is quickly abandoned in favour of a heavy sigh.

 

“It’s important, Hosoek,” he says, quietly, barely anything more than a broken whisper. But there is no fight behind his words, and Hoseok doesn’t bother trying to counter it.

 

Instead, he just squats down on the floor next to the chair, grabs Kihyun’s hand and brings it to his lips. The kiss is sweet, dry and so, so gentle.

 

“I hear you,” he says, softly. “I hear you.”

 

But he still doesn’t agree.

 

It’s important to Kihyun – but Hoseok can’t give him what he wants.

 

And Hoseok is in the right, this time.

 

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

 

It’s something akin to summer, a vague concept that means nothing except accelerated decay and sweltering, heavy temperatures, and Hoseok has left his jacket on the counter for the day as he polishes the barrel of one of his rifles. A large one – long and thick, deserving of maintenance after some long months of abuse. The wax clings to his hands and arms, mixing with sweat and dirt all the way up to the torn fabric at his shoulders.

 

He should probably wash up soon, but at this time, it’s a dance of futility from day to day – week to week. He’s going to be just as dirty tomorrow.

 

And it’s not like anyone is around to appreciate good hygiene, anyway.

 

The rifle he is working on now was scavenged from an abandoned apartment further down town – lying next to rotting corpses, thin and starved and twisted, one of them almost completely black where the flesh had started to decompose into fumes and particles.

 

Hoseok has grown desensitized to a lot of this, but after taking the weapon, he made sure to clean it properly to rid it off the stench. No one wants their deadly weapon to smell like death.

 

He is almost done when there is a knock on the door, locked for the day for no particular reason, and Hoseok stands up to let them in.

 

It’s Kihyun.

 

He looks better than last time, still sporting dark circles under his eyes and a certain pallor that wasn’t always there, but at least he is standing up straight and breathing normally today.

 

It’s a small comfort to Hoseok, but his stomach knots a little as he waits for Kihyun to start his nagging again.

 

But Kihyun doesn’t.

 

Hoseok locks the door again and turns around to see Kihyun’s gaze roaming across the muscles in his back, the shoulders, the solid frame Hoseok has developed as an adult.

 

“Look at you, then, all grown up and filled out.” Kihyun smirks as he looks up and down the bulging muscles on Hoseok’s arms, eyes twinkling with amusement, and something akin to fondness, if Hoseok dares to believe.

 

“I can’t say the same about you,” he retorts, letting his eyes glance down at Kihyun’s strong, but still slight stature.

 

It’s a façade, and they both know it – they weren’t kids anymore when Kihyun left either, Hoseok hasn’t grown any taller and probably not any wider. Kihyun certainly hasn’t.

 

And if he is offended by Hoseok pointing it out, he doesn’t let it show.

 

“Then we don’t have to change anything,” he smiles, playfully, as he steps closer until there is only a few inches between their chests. “We know how this works.”

 

They do.

 

It’s how it’s always been.

 

And maybe it should be more surprising to Hoseok, because when he kissed Kihyun only a few days ago, he had seemed so confused – dazed, maybe, hesitant.

 

But now, Kihyun is just like Hoseok remembers – all fire and confidence, enticing and challenging and so inviting. Tempting, if he can call it that.

 

When Kihyun runs his hands across Hoseok’s chest, it tingles pleasantly, and Hoseok’s body becomes hungry for more – not helping when one of Kihyun’s hands finds its way down to Hoseok’s crotch, grabbing a hold teasingly as Hoseok yelps in surprise.

 

It all escalates very quickly, Hoseok thinks, and maybe they should stop for a second – and what happened to the teasing, the build-up, the mutual frustration at each other’s stubbornness regarding the pesticide? Kihyun doesn’t seem interested today, instead his attention is only on Hoseok, Hoseok, Hoseok, and while the change isn’t unwelcome, Hoseok is a little bit puzzled.

 

But then Kihyun’s nose is on his neck, sniffing and inhaling and Hoseok feels Kihyun’s body heat pressing into him like a gentle weight.

 

So he tosses curiousity to the side and grips Kihyun’s cheek to pull him in for a kiss.

 

It starts out gentle, but only for a second, until Kihyun starts responding, pushing back into Hoseok’s mouth and kneading his lips with his teeth as Hoseok begins to lead them to the back room, his sleeping quarters. They don’t let go, and the movement only adds to the hurried messiness that encourages their frantic touches.

 

Hoseok isn’t complaining.

 

Kihyun’s tongue is hot on his, burning and twisting in sloppy kisses and poorly hidden desire, but Hoseok takes it. All of it. He has missed this, he thinks, as his hands slide down Kihyun’s sides and under his jacket, under his thin shirt, to feel soft skin marred with bumps and lines – scars, abrasions, all else that isn’t supposed to be there – and faint the almost indiscernible outlines of bones under his fingers. Still soft, but with a hardened, lean sinewiness that wasn’t there before.

 

Maturity.

 

Kihyun’s body feels like maturity now.

 

Somehow, that only spurs Hoseok on further, and he can’t help the little moan escaping his mouth only to be swallowed by Kihyun’s immediately. Kihyun’s tongue twitches in response, and when he pushes himself closer, Hoseok feels the tightness in his trousers pressing against his own crotch.

 

Encouragement.

 

And this is going too slowly.

 

He pulls his hands away from Kihyun’s waist reluctantly, but only to tear away the big jacket, never breaking the fiery kiss, never pausing long enough for Kihyun to pull away.

 

But Kihyun doesn’t seem like he wants to either.

 

His arms fall from Hoseok’s shoulders pliantly when he feels the jacket being tugged off, but the second his hands are free again, he moves back in with a passion Hoseok has sorely missed. The intimacy, the adoration, the need for everything that is Yoo Kihyun, and he needs to savour this.

 

Warmth. A human touch – something meaningful.

 

If only Hoseok could trick himself into thinking that this _is_ something meaningful, and not just lust and pent up frustration after so long apart. If he allows himself to believe that this is something more than desire and convenience of seduction, then yes, Hoseok will feel so content with Kihyun’s hands on his neck, his hips arching against Hoseok’s own, needy moan in his ears as the touches grow quicker, stronger, more desperate.

 

He tries not to think too much – it only becomes more difficult.

 

“Hoseok,” Kihyun whines into his mouth, and his voice is so sweet, so soft in a breathless plea and Hoseok finds himself slipping a hand down Kihyun’s pants to knead harshly at his ass. Kihyun is asking him to take control, and Hoseok will show him that he has every intention of doing so. 

 

He takes his mouth away from Kihyun’s mouth to work down his neck, sucking and licking and biting, and Kihyun lets out a soft gasp as Hoseok’s teeth sink into his skin. His nails scratch along Hoseok’s shoulders, not aggressively, still just gentle – but Hoseok knows he can get a lot rougher than this.

 

He intends to draw that out soon enough.

 

He bites down harder, pushing already bruising skin until he feels Kihyun’s nails tighten in tandem with the rough groan escaping his lips, creating short burning trails that drive the heat growing in Hoseok’s stomach.

 

Yes, this is good. It works.

 

He somehow manages to loosen Kihyun’s pants as he moves down, shoving them down his legs until Kihyun takes the hint, kicking off his boots and stepping out of his clothes easily. In return, he starts working on Hoseok’s pants, and somehow, they manage to get undress and fall on the small, sad bed together.

 

Hoseok isn’t sure of Kihyun climbs on top of him or if he pulls him down, but somehow Kihyun ends up straddling his waist, looking down at him with parted lips and hooded eyes through idle, dark strands tussled by Hoseok’s eager fingers. Hoseok has a perfect view of Kihyun’s chest like this, looking almost magical and golden in the faint candle light despite the pallor, despite the uneven shading of bruises and odd, raised lines scattered along his sides and collarbone.

 

It’s beautiful. So enticing, tempting and more than just a little intoxicating, Hoseok thinks. He never doubted his attraction to Kihyun when they were younger, but when he takes in the naked, small chest and taunt nipples, he realizes that he forgot the extent of his desire until now – until it’s suddenly paraded in front of him, ready, on display, and mysteriously tainted since Hoseok last saw him.

 

Kihyun must notice his hungry eyes, because he smirks down at Hoseok and bends down to lick a thin trail from his belly button and all the way up his ears, tauntingly running around his pectorals and slowing down near the frantic pulse beating through Hoseok’s throat.

 

“Are you just going to look all night?” He murmurs into Hoseok’s skin, smiling when he feels a shiver spread from the small contact.

 

“I’m enjoying the view,” Hoseok admits, with a far steadier voice than he would have thought possible. He commends himself for that. “While it lasts. I’m not in a hurry.”

 

His hands, previously loitering idly on Kihyun’s hips, move further down to brush over Kihyun’s ass cheeks, first gently, feeling him out, exploring the curves as he used to before, and then harder, with firm fingers making their claim across the plump skin.

 

Kihyun suppresses a gasp against Hoseok’s neck, sucking in his breath harshly through his nose instead, but when Hoseok releases one hand only to bring it down in a piercing slap immediately afterwards, he can’t avoid letting out a loud whine.

 

This time, it’s Hoseok who smirks.

 

Kihyun has always been noisy.

 

It’s an exhilarating feeling, to realize that he still holds so much power over the mysterious, enigmatic young man that was once just a mischievous boy like Hoseok himself. Even now, he still knows how to push Kihyun’s buttons.

 

Admittedly, they might not need to push each other tonight – the absence has reduced their lust to a more desperate, raw desire, stripped of self-control and mind games and only left to push against each other in a most primitive form of need.

 

Hoseok allows himself to forget about all of his questions, all of his doubts and his hurt for a moment.

 

With Kihyun lying on top of him like this, he can feel their cocks rubbing against each other between their bellies, between Hoseoks firm muscle beneath Kihyun’s smooth chest, and the friction makes him ache with need, so delicious, but only a precursor to what Hoseok knows is coming. Kihyun is throbbing, hot and eager against him, and Hoseok knows he is exactly the same. He turns his head a little, just enough to press a soft kiss against Kihyun’s ear, nipping at it until Kihyun’s mouth moves up against Hoseok’s jawline, tauntingly slow.

 

Hoseok isn’t patient enough for that.

 

With a low growl, he uses one of his hands to forcefully drag Kihyun’s face up to meet him in a rough kiss, the other still firmly planted on Kihyun’s ass and shoving him closer, push by push, and Kihyun is only all too eager to help move his hips to the sloppy rhythm Hoseok creates. Each movement is a little bit heavier, increases the weight and pressure on Hoseok’s dick, and he can’t help but groan through Kihyun’s kisses.

 

“C’mon, you can go a bit longer,” Kihyun teases above him, but he is breathless, enjoying this just as much as Hoseok does, and it only takes another rut for him to shut up as well.

 

Then Hoseok slows their pace, just a little, just enough to create some space between their bodies again. Just enough to slip a hand between their bellies, stroking himself while feeling Kihyun shudder as the back of his fingers brushes against his cock on the way up and down. He knows he is being frustrating like this, but they are both throbbing, and they both know what comes next. It’s only preparation.

 

“What do you need?” Hoseok asks when Kihyun starts to move his hips again, desperately brushing along Hoseok’s hand even though Hoseok refuses to relinquish his hold on himself.

 

Kihyun doesn’t even pause. “Help me,” he says, eyes bright and burning when he looks up at Hoseok.

 

This is Hoseok’s favourite part. When Kihyun drops his aggressive, proud mask, when he doesn’t have to fight back, when he finally surrenders to Hoseok control and lets him in for real. He is still the same strong, confident Kihyun that will never lay down his arms without a fight, but like this, he lets himself relax and acknowledges that him and Hoseok are on the same team – Hoseok can give him something unique.

 

And Hoseok is only too happy to comply.

 

Still holding himself, he flips them over, accidentally knocking Kihyun’s shoulder against the wall as they move, but none of them pay much attention to it. That’s just part of the game, part of the intensity and desperation driving them forward.

 

Besides, Kihyun never liked being treated too gently.

 

He does let out a surprised yelp, though, and the little sound, so genuine and different from Kihyun’s usually teasing moans and whispers, makes Hoseok’s dick twitch in happiness. Yet another step to breaking down Kihyun’s need to be in control of his surroundings all the time.

 

He is leaking at the tip now, and it only takes a few rubs to spread it over his dick and coat his fingers, while Kihyun looks on with anticipation.

 

“Soon,” Hoseok promises when Kihyun licks his lips hungrily. His voice is trembling a little, and his entire body is burning with an overwhelming urge to push himself into Kihyun, fuck him raw and open immediately.

 

But he won’t do that.

 

Instead, he moves back just a little, releasing his dick and making it bounce back up against his belly, but Hoseok will have to leave it for now – anticipating and eager, and while he would love to give into the heat and aching need immediately, he knows the chase is well worth the final thrill.

 

Kihyun’s legs spread willingly when Hoseok pushes his knees apart, and Hoseok almost smirks. For all his taunts and slow moves, Kihyun can be so impatient.

 

Hoseok can see Kihyun’s hole ready and waiting for him, but he can’t resist licking a wet stripe along the underside of Kihyun’s dick first, teasing the vein and stopping just short of the head. He revels in the gasp Kihyun makes, before it becomes an annoyed groan.

 

“Fuck, Hoseok,” Kihyun says, and Hoseok can almost hear him gritting his teeth. “Just move on already.”

 

“Shut up,” Hoseok retorts, sending a small gust of warm air over Kihyun’s belly. Most of the time, Kihyun wouldn’t comply, but now he does, falling quite save for a small whimper, and Hoseok knows he enjoys it despite his complaints. Kihyun relishes the thought of being in control, but that only makes it more gratifying when he can relinquish that control to a worthy partner – someone he trusts to take control for him.

 

Hoseok knows he can be that someone.

 

Has been before, and there is no way he is willing to fall down from Kihyun’s pedestal now.

 

It’s different when they’re not having sex, when Kihyun doesn’t get anything in return for leaving anyone else in charge. It’s the opportunistic and self-righteous part of him that refuses to let himself be overruled by anyone else, and the worst thing Kihyun knows is when anyone patronizes him or belittles his capabilities. Playing the passive role can trigger those feelings, and it’s why Kihyun won’t show his vulnerabilities to just anyone.

 

But Hoseok.

 

It’s a testament of trust that he lets Hoseok take the lead now, because he knows that Hoseok would never do anything to hurt him. Knows that Hoseok does not look down on him, knows that he is no more Hoseok’s puppet than Hoseok is his.

 

It’s reciprocal, and that’s all Kihyun needs.

 

When they let themselves fall together like this, Kihyun does not exactly become pliant in Hoseok’s hands, but he sees the advantages of leaving Hoseok on top of the game, because it only gets more enjoyable for himself that way.

 

Otherwise, Hoseok knows, they would not be where they are right now – him leaning over Kihyun’s abdomen while Kihyun waits impatiently for his next move.

 

He is not a fool. He knows that Kihyun might have let himself open for others for a variety of other reasons, anything ranging from a desirable endgame and rewards to the simple need to stay alive.

 

But he would not enjoy it.

 

Not like this.

 

He would not be squirming and panting and twisting his fingers with a moaning fervour as he does now; would not be as relaxed, and as vulnerable to his own needs as he is with Hoseok. Hoseok could do anything to Kihyun, if he wanted to.

 

But tonight – it’s easy tonight.

 

All he wants is to feel Kihyun around him, Kihyun’s lips on his necks, and Kihyun’s voice in his ears.

 

Which makes it so gratifying when he drops a little bit lower, aligning himself with Kihyun’s hole and blowing softly on the untouched, trembling ring of muscle – making Kihyun whine quite pitifully, needily, enticingly.

 

“Hoseok, _please,_ ” he keens, but Hoseok knows he loves it. Kihyun loves the attention and the care Hoseok puts into prepping him, including his teasing sidetracks.

 

Hoseok keeps telling Kihyun to be quiet even though he absolutely adores the creative noises Kihyun makes, and Kihyun keeps telling Hoseok to hurry up even though the build-up is his favourite part as well.

 

It’s a part of the game – telling each other off, teasing and taunting and challenging.

 

Still, Hoseok can’t deny his own impatience, and while he does get a thrill out of ruffling Kihyun’s feathers to make this as painfully drawn-out as possible, he is anticipating the progression.

 

Kihyun’s knees are trembling on the bed next to Hoseok’s shoulders, begging him, luring him in as Hoseok leans forward to trace the rim with his tongue, gently at first, but Kihyun makes such pretty noises that soon enough, Hoseok becomes sloppy and eager, tasting Kihyun and feeling his excitement building with each new lick.

 

Tensing muscles tell him that Kihyun’s trying to suppress a shudder, with limited success, and the signal sends another spark of pleasure down Hoseok’s cock. He shifts a little, not pausing even for a second as he pushes his tongue past the muscle, delving deeper into Kihyun and feeling the heat encompass him on all sides. He longs to fill his entire length in the hole, but the imitation builds the pulsing in his cock again, and then Kihyun groans, such a beautiful, heavy sound. He clenches around Hoseok’s tongue, still so tight, but Hoseok knows he will have to work more. The smooth, tickling surface and deft movements are nothing but teasing pleasures, sweet, but too soft for Kihyun.

 

And Hoseok.

 

He pulls back and replaces his tongue with a finger, still slick with precum, and Kihyun’s hips don’t even stutter.

 

“You’re so ready,” Hoseok murmurs against Kihyun’s kneecap, not even sure if he can be heard over panting breaths and rustling sheets. “You could just fuck yourself right now, on my finger.”

 

“No,” Kihyun says, voice betraying his mewling breaths as Hoseok starts twisting his finger, curling it a little, pressing against the tightening muscle. “Wouldn’t want to take all the fun away from you.”

 

“So generous of you.” Hoseok chances a glance at Kihyun’s face, heart almost catching in his chest at the gorgeous sight. Already sweating, flushed and almost feverish, Kihyun looks dishevelled, but inviting, like a sweet, promising mess of lust and intrigue reserved only for Hoseok.

 

He pushes a second finger in, and this time, Kihyun does squirm a little on the bed, but Hoseok’s other hand holds him down, rubbing lightly at his hip.

 

Kihyun’s eyes are closed now, tickled with wet drops and creased at the corner in a small frown, and Hoseok knows he should stop teasing, biding his time to savour the moment.

 

“You can speed things up a little,” Kihyun moans above him, and Hoseok has to grin, because they really are on the same wavelength.

 

“Okay,” he agrees, and leans forward, still moving and scissoring his fingers inside Kihyun as he bends down to press a soft kiss against his stomach. The slender, timid muscles jump a little in surprise, and Hoseok turns his head to press another kiss to the tip of Kihyun’s cock just before bending the tips of his fingers slightly, making Kihyun gasp and arch his back.

 

Hoseok takes the opportunity to press a third finger in, unexpectedly and far quicker than he normally would, and judging by the half-cry Kihyun lets out, he did not see it coming. He feels so tight around Hoseok’s fingers, naturally clamping down around them as Hoseok keeps moving them in and out, pumping and twisting and pushing and drawing out needy moans with every new stretch.

 

“Fuck,” Kihyun breathes, and Hoseok smirks a little.

 

“You good?”

 

“You’re the best – “

 

Hoseok arches one finger, hitting that sweet spot and Kihyun groans heavily.

 

“Save yourself for me, love,” Hoseok says, but doesn’t withdraw his fingers. His other hand moves up, stroking and pumping Kihyun’s cock slowly.

 

“Now,” Kihyun pants, reaching out to put a hand on Hoseok’s arm, and when Hoseok looks down, Kihyun’s eyes are pleading and warm and watery. “Please, I want you now.”

 

“Already?” Hoseok teases. “I thought we were going to play longer.”

 

“Want you now,” Kihyun repeats breathily. “And you – you want it too. Now. So come on, do your thing.”

 

Hoseok is really only too happy to ‘do his thing’, and drags precum from Kihyun’s cock to coat his own once more, their fluids mixing and leaving Hoseok slick and ready. His fingers are still deep inside Kihyun, but when he pulls them out, Kihyun whines loudly at the emptiness and grabs after Hoseok’s hand.

 

Hoseok doesn’t pause, lining himself up with Kihyun’s hole and pushing in slowly, revelling at the wonderful feeling of Kihyun’s warmth around him, so tight and good. Kihyun moans, throwing his head back as Hoseok moves, dick twitching happily on his belly.

 

Hoseok has to test the waters a little, trying remember Kihyun’s stretching and how far he can push their limits, but it comes naturally, and he has really missed this part. Giving himself to Kihyun, so fully and wholly, feeling the muscle give way for his cock as he moves in and out, slowly at first, but speeding up eventually, earning happy moans and sharp breaths from Kihyun as he goes. The heat keeps pooling in his belly, and at some point it stops being a conscious play and they fall into bare desperation, Hoseok pushing himself further into Kihyun while Kihyun bucks his hips, meeting Hoseok there, eager to have all of Hoseok in himself all the time.

 

“Turn over,” Kihyun commands between rapid breaths, and together they manoeuvre around so Kihyun can sit on Hoseok again, and he starts moving immediately, riding Hoseok with an enthusiasm they both have missed.

 

This time, it’s Hoseok who arches his hips, putting his hands on Kihyun’s side and pressing them even closer, making sure Hoseok goes hilt-deep into Kihyun every time, and Hoseok is so close now, panting and feeling the pressure build deliciously, but almost unbearably in his dick as they move –

 

And then Kihyun doubles over and his moans become harsh coughs as he trembles and twitches on top of Hoseok.

 

But Hoseok feels Kihyun contract and shift around him, and before he can react, it pushes him over the edge and he feels the sweet release as an overwhelming wave of pleasure crashes through his body with devastating power. It’s subconscious when he rides it out, still holding on to Kihyun’s hips even if Kihyun himself has stopped moving in time with him, and it’s not until he finally comes down that he realizes the orgasm had the worst timing in the world.

 

Kihyun still sits with Hoseok’s dick in him, still pulsing around him but not exactly appearing as excited as before. He’s heaving for breath, but not in a good way, and the occasional cough still escapes as he tries to regain control of his body.

 

Hoseok can’t believe he just did that.

 

And Kihyun looks so helpless, so vulnerable and fragile and Hoseok just wants to take all his troubles away.

 

“Hey,” he says, rubbing Kihyun’s hip softly for his attention. “Are you okay? Do you – do you need…?”

 

What, exactly?

 

What can he give Kihyun to fix this?

 

“It’s okay,” Kihyun rasps out eventually, even though it’s brutally obvious that it is anything _but_ okay. “I’m – I’m sorry, I just – “

 

“No, don’t apologize,” Hoseok shakes his head, keeps rubbing Kihyun’s hip. He feels himself softening inside Kihyun, but doesn’t dare pointing it out. “It sucks that it has to be like this.”

 

“You can say that,” Kihyun chuckles weakly, but even those meagre sounds quickly develop into coughs, and Hoseok sits up to envelop him in his arms. And suddenly Kihyun feels so frail, like a child or glass figure, and it’s a terrible realization, but Hoseok doesn’t dare to hold him tighter.

 

Eventually, he feels Kihyun’s arms fall around his waist, tentatively and small, and he can’t help but bury his face in Kihyun’s neck. Still hot and sweaty, and Hoseok can feel his own cum starting to drip down between them, but he can’t find it in him to care.

 

Kihyun sighs above him, and this close, Hoseok can hear the rattling in his chest with every breath, every movement Kihyun makes, and it’s heartwrenching.

 

But then Kihyun opens his mouth and tears it down again.

 

“Hoseok,” he says, carefully, but pleading. “Please… Please give me the pesticide.”

 

And Hoseok freezes, goes rigid around Kihyun and feels the anger starting to build in his chest.

 

How dare Kihyun bring that up now.

 

How dare he shatter the precious moment by mentioning that _thing_ that keeps threatening to drive them apart again.

 

How _dare_ he insinuate that this was only a ruse to win Hoseok’s favour in the bargain.

 

“ _No,”_ he growls against Kihyun’s neck, and Kihyun must notice the anger in his tone, because he tenses a little, but doesn’t say anything else. “Don’t say anything about that now. Don’t do this.”

 

_Don’t tear away my dreams._

Kihyun lost his drive after that, and eventually, he and Hoseok climb off each other, silent and almost awkward, but at least they stay close and huddle together on the bed, small as it is. Hoseok’s frame fits around Kihyun’s, serving as an almost protective layer against the dangers they cannot see. It’s too late, but it makes him feel better about himself.

 

Kihyun stays with him that night, but it is no surprise that come morning, he is gone.

 

Hoseok is all alone, with only a bitter aftertaste in his mouth.

 

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

 

It’s that day again today.

 

The bag weighs heavily on Hoseok’s shoulder when he trudges down the streets of the old, broken city that was probably a center of life and activity once upon a time. All he sees are broken windows and sad walls, grey and brown and dead, and it’s hard to imagine the massive blocks of concrete and bricks in any other way. The road stretches through the city, wide and empty and so oddly out of place – just an open space in the middle of various kinds of wreckages. A few old cars remain, but most are burned asunder, left only spots of black and ashes long since flown away.

 

He wonders what it was all like – did the city ever feed more than a few thousand people? Could old and young live together? Did people ever go hungry? Did they smile and greet each other, or were they only hunters and prey?

 

The stories Kihyun and him heard when they were children told of all kinds of strange worlds – the other sounding more implausible than the other, and Hoseok has no idea if any of it was true or not.

 

It’s impossible for him to know, or even to imagine, this world he is living in, only –

 

Only healthy.

 

Not that it matters what he thinks – what he is or isn’t able to believe. It doesn’t do him any good, it only makes him confused and angry. He can only deal with what he sees, right here, right now. That will have to be enough.

 

But it is tempting to let his mind roam freely, to let himself consider what could have been. Maybe that is what Kihyun did, before he left. Maybe that is why he walked away – because he wanted to search for the legacy of a better time, or because he had given up.

 

Hoseok doesn’t want to ask Kihyun why he left.

 

It could be a number of things, but none of them will make Hoseok feel better about it.

 

Kihyun wanted him to join, wanted him to come with him in search of _something_ that Hoseok never quite understood, but he knew it was futile, and he knew they had duties and something important waiting here in the city.

 

But Kihyun didn’t care.

 

Kihyun left regardless, not looking back at Hoseok and everything he left behind.

 

Hoseok shakes his head – he drives himself around in circles when he does this, playing the blame game and imagination spinning in wild directions, and it doesn’t do him any good.

 

He discards the thoughts when he arrives at the old subway station, a stairway down below the ground, and rearranges his cargo once more before trudging down.

 

It’s a fair distance down, and he takes it slow to make sure he doesn’t trip up or lose the bag on the way. It’s already getting dark outside, but the subway tunnels have long since gone dark, and Hoseok doesn’t want to waste his flashlight on this trek. The stairs are still relatively intact, and he should be able to get down safely on his own for now.

 

In the end, he only stumbles once, nearly losing the bag, but regains his balance quickly enough to stay upright and not squash the load. He gives himself a mental pat on the shoulder for that, but also a brief scolding for allowing himself to get distracted.

 

He makes it down the stairs eventually, and puts a hand against the wall to find his way further in, until he sees light around the corner – his destination.

 

Minhyuk must have heard him coming, because he has opened the heavy cargo door to let him in easily, and he smiles when Hoseok dumps the bag at his feet.

 

“Quite a load today,” he remarks, happily, and Hoseok has to agree.

 

And as soon as the doors close behind him, the sound of small, pattering feet can be heard echoing off the walls, and soon enough, a small group of children come out to peer at Hoseok from behind Minhyuk.

 

“Hi everyone,” Hoseok says, smiling, and even gets down on one knee to hug a couple of the children as they jump him excitedly. One of the girls is crying, but she always cries, so Hoseok isn’t too worried.

 

“What did you bring us today, Hoseok?” A boy asks, eyeing the bag excitedly.

 

Hoseok smiles. “I found some good treats for you this time,” he says. “A new ball – you can use it to play games, I think you’ll like it. More food, and best of all, cocoa powder! Have any of you had cocoa before?”

 

The children shake their heads collectively, eyes wide.

 

Hoseok pretends to look scandalized. “What? Oh, you poor unfortunate souls! No cocoa?”

 

“What’s cocoa, Hoseok?” One of them asks.

 

Hoseok shakes his head. “Minhyuk will make it for you later. It is a drink, it’s very very tasty – you’ll have to save it for special days, okay? Can’t have it all at once.”

 

“But I want it!”

 

“Kids,” Minhyuk claps his hand in warning. “Behave. Can you go put this away in the pantry? When you find the toys you can take them out and play.”

 

“Yes, Minhyuk!” They pick up the bag, carrying it between them towards a storage room on the other side of the abandoned rail tracks.

 

Minhyuk shakes his head fondly, and Hoseok can’t help but smile as well. The children are so sweet, so innocent and full of life – he was like that once.

 

Kihyun was like that once.

 

“So,” Minhyuk starts, leading him towards the old benches in a quiet corner. “Why the long face? Has something happened?”

 

“Nothing has – “

 

“Don’t even try that, you have the most telling face ever,” Minhyuk scolds poking his shoulder harshly. “Something’s up, isn’t it?”

 

Hoseok debates whether or not to tell him, because in one way, what he and Kihyun has is very unique to them, regardless of whatever shape or form their relationship takes. Talking about it makes it more real, tangible to others, and the ache from Kihyun’s departure and his bittersweet return becomes even worse.

 

But, that’s all in his head – it doesn’t really make a difference. He does, sort of, want to talk about Kihyun to someone. And Kihyun was Minhyuk’s friend too, is, maybe, if they ever see each other again.

 

“I’ve seen Kihyun around.” He lets it slip before finishing his internal argument, watching as Minhyuk’s face contorts in surprise.

 

“Kihyun?” He repeats incredulously. “I thought he died.”

 

“Well, he didn’t, but he will soon,” Hoseok shrugs, pointedly avoiding Minhyuk’s gaze as it turns sympathetic. “The radiation has taken his lungs.”

 

“Ouch,” Minhyuk winces and shakes his head. “That doesn’t sound good.”

 

“It’s not,” Hoseok agrees, licks his lips. “Some days he can’t breathe properly, and it’s… It’s not good. I don’t know how he does when he’s not visiting me, but from the looks of it, probably falling apart little by little.”

 

Minhyuk came to them when they were at their worst – or best, depending on the angle of approach. When they were growing into their confidence, learning to not only survive but thrive, when the final strands of protection were ripped from them as younger crowds received more attention for their weaknesses. That was fine, though, they were happy to step up to the challenge of persevering on their own.

 

Though eager and reckless in his own ways, Minhyuk had a heart too large and stayed when Hoseok and Kihyun drifted away by themselves. Probably a good thing too, Minhyuk was more compassionate than Hoseok and Kihyun could ever be. More in line with the few, the vulnerable, the needy. He could do something about it.

 

And with time, Hoseok has learned to help him.

 

It has become his purpose, in many ways.

 

“I can’t imagine Kihyun like that,” Minhyuk frowns, and shrugs when Hoseok turns an incredulous look his way. “It’s just – he was always so proud and strong and stuff. If a bit of an asshole.”

 

“He’s working for the Rhino now,” Hoseok sighs. “Or at least, that’s what I think he does – he never confirmed it outright, but…”

 

“Why would you think that?” Minhyuk asks. “That’s – that’s serious, I didn’t think Kihyun would do that.”

 

The Rhino is a feared man around the city – around the country, really, if people stay alive long enough for rumours to travel effectively. The name has been whispered around town since Hoseok was a child, and he is convinced that the Rhino, if he ever existed, now merely serves as a personification of a purpose in a brutal, conniving gang looking to salvage the best in a torn city for themselves. Ruthless, but powerful, in control of most of the resource flow and with it, people’s lives. It doesn’t even matter if it’s a real person or not – the spectre of the Rhino is enough to leave more scars on an already wounded city. Some say he has connection with the outside – others believe he just knows all the right people, in the right ways. Not necessarily amicable relationships, and not necessarily a symmetrical exchange.

 

Hoseok has been able to stay independent of him for so long because of his unique skills to locate, identify and renovate broken flowers into something workable. His individuality has given him power – limited, admittedly, and continuously perched on the edge of a knife, but so far, it’s enough.

 

Hoseok also knows it might very well be because the Rhino likes to toy with people. Give them the illusion of control, rays of hope and a reason to keep working, as long as it’s beneficial for the Rhino.

 

He’s not naïve enough to think that he is _that_ special.

 

No one is irreplaceable anymore, not really. They serve functions, limited ones anyway, and although some people have a greater affinity for certain tasks, there is nothing that cannot be found in others, one way or another.

 

To think that Kihyun has reduced himself to this…

 

“You forget that Kihyun has his own way of doing things,” Hoseok says, and it’s ambiguous, but Kihyun has always been difficult to read, so he thinks it’s fitting. “Minhyuk, he’s – he was trying to get pesticide from me.”

 

“Pest  – “ Minhyuk starts to shriek, but even after all these years, Hoseok knows exactly how impulsive and dramatic Minhyuk can be, and leans forward just in time to slam his hand over Minhyuk’s mouth.

 

“Don’t say it so loud, we don’t need anyone to know,” he admonishes and looks around him to make sure none of the children heard. They seem unconcerned, still going through the food and spinner Hoseok brought with uncontained glee.

 

Minhyuk frowns at him, and for a second, Hoseok is sure that he will feel Minhyuk’s tongue on his palm – but Minhyuk’s grown up to, and merely waits patiently as Hoseok takes his hand away.

 

“Okay, but – _pesticide,_ seriously?” Minhyuk says, looking like he wants to cry and shout again. “Is it that bad?”

 

“The Rhino is an abhorrent asshole,” Hoseok snorts. “I’m not surprised he would go to such measures. You know he has hated you and everyone down here for a long time, it’s not exactly a secret, and he still wants to clear out the rail tunnels… He doesn’t have any compassion or understanding. I said no, repeatedly, but Kihyun keeps coming back…”

 

“Why would Kihyun help the Rhino?” Minhyuk muses. “Doesn’t he realize what that guy wants to do?”

 

“He probably does,” Hoseok sighs, and drags a hand through his hair. “But I’m not going to let them do this. I’m not… I’m not going to let them decimate this city.”

 

“If the Rhino knows you refused him, you might be in trouble,” Minhyuk says, seriously.

 

Hoseok snorts. “We are all in trouble.”

 

“You know what I mean,” Minhyuk levels him with a gaze, and throughout the years he has known him, Hoseok has never seen him look this grave – this upset.

 

Minhyuk doesn’t need to tell him. He knows his days are numbered, but that is nothing new, he has just added another factor to the equation. Occupational hazard.

 

Existential hazard.

 

“I don’t really care anymore,” he says, quietly, glancing back at the children playing with the old teddy bear he got as payment for a particularly nice – Cosmos plant. Thinks about Kihyun – the new scars beneath his chin, the steel in his eyes and the death cough.

 

And then suddenly he realizes – Kihyun _has_ changed.

 

Hoseok kept clinging to the old image of Kihyun, the headstrong, but warm boy that used to be his everything. Someone who was strong of will, if not in body.

 

And now – there is an edge, a coldness, an elevated form of cynicism and egocentricity that wasn’t there before. It’s still Kihyun, in every way, just more worn, bitter, affected by the world and the reality of survival at every cost.

 

Hoseok hates it.

 

But he also hates himself for not realizing.

 

Minhyuk must understand, somehow, because Minhyuk always knows.

 

“You don’t have to stay,” he starts, quietly. “Not for him, not for this – I know the business is what you do, but you could always – “

 

“It’s not about the business,” Hoseok interrupts with a sigh, and shakes his head. “Or at least… Not in the direct sense. It’s what comes with it, what I can bring back here…”

 

He looks over at the children again, but Minhyuk doesn’t give him much time to think.

 

“We will find ways,” he says. “You should – you should probably get the fuck out of here.”

 

“And go where, exactly? There is nowhere else. This is all I have, all I can do, all I care about. If I can’t contribute I might as well not exist.”

 

It’s harsh, and maybe not entirely true, but it certainly feels that way now.

 

And Minhyuk might see something in his eyes, because he doesn’t argue the point further, only shakes his head and pulls Hoseok into a hug, warm, gentle and as soothing as can be.

 

“You just be careful, Hoseok,” he says, and his breath ghosts over the skin on Hoseok’s neck the same way Kihyun’s did. It doesn’t feel nice. “Just be careful.”

 

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

 

Another customer is just about to leave, a simple bouquet of Daisies tucked under his arm, carefully wrapped in a rough sack looking as ordinary as anything. He is not smiling, but he looks satisfied nonetheless, not pleased, but approving of his recent trade, although Hoseok knows it was a bad deal on his part. His storage is still solid enough, but it is wilting, and usually he would be out the door already to look for new supplies.

 

Not today.

 

He can’t find the energy, the will or even the courage to do so today.

 

That is bad business.

 

But Hoseok doesn’t want to think too much about that either, even if the notion is nagging in the back of his brain as he hands the package over, accepts the payment with a grim nod and sends the customer on his merry way out the door. He has other things on his mind, equally troubling, equally helpless.

 

It doesn’t get better when the door swings open and Kihyun ducks into the sad room around the leaving client, pleasant smile plastered on his face as he turns to look at Hoseok.

 

“Busy day,” Kihyun remarks with faux cheeriness and a peculiar glance at the door sliding shut, and Hoseok almost wants to punch him. They both know that one customer a day is everything Hoseok can hope for and more – the statement feels like a mockery, not in the least for the implication of Kihyun’s visit itself.

 

Hoseok sighs heavily and leans on the counter, looking down, avoiding looking at Kihyun’s new pallor, the rapid hollowing of his cheeks and redness around his eyes.

 

Pretending not to hear the wheeze in his voice.

 

“Not today, Kihyun,” he says, shaking his head. “I can’t do this today.”

 

From the corner of his eye, he can see Kihyun cock his head. “You don’t want to see me?”

 

“No,” Hoseok shakes his head again, voice raising and shoulders tensing. “I’m not going to give you what you want, and I’m tired of this charade, and I… I don’t think you should come back here, Kihyun.”

 

Then, quick and quiet as a cat, Kihyun is at the counter in front of him, leaning down a little bit to put his face in Hoseok’s field of vision. He stares up with big, imploring eyes, and Hoseok inhales sharply.

 

Kihyun is beautiful.

 

Has always been, in a ragged, unpolished sort of way – like a forgotten, dirty gemstone, all sharp edges with captivating details. These days, the cheekbones are a little bit too prominent, lips a little bit too pale and eyes more haunted than Hoseok would have liked. But it adds to the impish, warm charm that Kihyun always had when they were kids, divulging a tale of something that was once adorable and vigorous, soon paving way for a melancholic, worn beauty that has only become tragic with time.

 

Hoseok wonders if anyone else ever saw how beautiful Kihyun is. If that – if it helped him, caused him any trouble. He knows what happens to pretty girls.

 

He wonders if some of Kihyun’s new scars were caused by jealousy, curiousity, a morbid desire to twist something so pure into a sad mockery of its previous elegance. If so, they failed – instead, it sends a signal of resilience through Kihyun’s fragile, new strength.

 

It’s almost unfair, Hoseok thinks, but Kihyun is just as captivating as he has always been. He wants to hate it, but he can’t.

 

And Kihyun –

 

Kihyun reads him like an open book.

 

“Don’t you love me anymore, Hoseok?” He asks, cautiously, but it’s only a pretense for the challenge boiling underneath the surface. His voice is raspy and drawn, scratching out of his chest like a gruel waterfall.

 

Hoseok shakes his head, nose only inches over Kihyun’s. “No,” he says, firmly. Convincing himself, if not Kihyun. “I haven’t loved you in a long time.”

 

“Liar,” Kihyun interjects immediately. “You don’t want to, but you do love me. And you hate yourself for it.”

 

“Am I wrong to do that?” Hoseok retorts sharply. “It used to be the two of, forever. But forever doesn’t last long with you, I suppose – “

 

“Nothing lasts forever.”

 

“ – but once you’re back, you’re not here for me. You’re only using me. As if I meant so little to you.”

 

And a that, Kihyun pauses. Looks up at Hoseok with big, shiny eyes, examining him, searching for – what?

 

Until he steps back, straightens again, and the coquettish smile is replaced by something much more somber. Almost regretful, disappointed.

 

Hoseok chooses not to say anything, waits for Kihyun’s defense – almost allowing himself to feel guilty for the hurt expression on Kihyun’s face that makes him look so much younger than he is, so much more innocent.

 

But no.

 

Hoseok only spoke truthfully – any injustice Kihyun suffers from is caused by himself.

 

He can take the consequences without Hoseok’s coddling.

 

And Kihyun looks like he will, opens his mouth to say something – until the words lock in his throat and harsh coughs erupt instead, making him flinch and turn away from Hoseok, folding over into himself a little more with each violent shudder, each gasping breath.

 

Hoseok stands frozen behind the counter, watching helplessly as Kihyun struggles to regain control of his body, failing, as red specks fall between his hands to stain the rough floor.

 

Red.

 

Hoseok steps out from behind the counter. “Kihyun – “

 

“Fuck!”

 

Kihyun forces himself upright, only for a second, only long enough to slam his palm against one of the cabinets in the corner, breaking the glass and sending shards flying with the force of the impact. The edges tear into his skin, scratching his hand open and the blood from his lungs mixes with the blood from his fist.

 

The coughing subsides, leaving him panting and shaking, and Hoseok still standing passively on the other side of the room.

 

He isn’t sure what to do. Should he approach Kihyun, help him like he did before? Or leave him be – Kihyun never took kindly to patronization, and compassion in moments of vulnerability might be taken for pity when he isn’t thinking clearly.

 

But his breaths come out heavy, labored, and he is losing blood still. It hurts a little bit, deep down, somewhere Hoseok thought he’d buried too deep down a long time ago, it pains him to see Kihyun suffer like this. And Hoseok knows that there is nothing he can do to relieve it. He doesn’t want to deal with Kihyun, not right now, doesn’t want to deal with everything they pretend to have left behind – but he can’t stand the sight of his proud, fierce companion reduced to this shivering mess either.

 

“Kihyun – “ he says again, taking a step closer, but Kihyun shakes his head and moves back, away from Hoseok, to lean against the wall instead.

 

“No,” Kihyun croaks, choking on a sob, and it’s almost shocking, too raw, Hoseok can’t do anything but comply. “No, fuck you, Hoseok! I’m dying!”

 

Hoseok knew that much. He figured that much, even if Kihyun never seemed willing to say it out loud – even if he tried to pretend to be okay, brush off his deterioration like something inconsequential or merely an inconvenience. Hoseok knew, because the coughs, the blood, the gauntness and the sag in his shoulder betrays a lack of vitality that Kihyun never had before. It’s the awful pride, probably, that kept Kihyun from saying it outright. Putting words to the symptoms makes it tangible, makes it obvious, makes _him_ vulnerable.

 

And Kihyun could never abide by vulnerability.

 

Not back in their youth, when Hoseok wanted to be his guardian, not when they grew older and it became obvious that Kihyun’s slight physique would never catch up to Hoseok’s imposing figure. Not when the older children kept them in the dark, and not when they entered the big world by themselves to face all its dangers, come what may.

 

Hoseok doesn’t care much what other people think of him, but he knows that Kihyun has always been very concerned with his own self-presentation. In one way, he is happy that Kihyun would finally admit to weakness, allowed himself to let the mask slip…

 

But it is also terrifying to hear.

 

Hoseok mostly wishes Kihyun wouldn’t say that. It’s silly, naïve and almost detestable in its ignorance, but a part of him still wants to believe that it isn’t real – _can’t be real_ – until the words tumble out of Kihyun’s mouth and Hoseok is forced to acknowledge it. He wants to believe that they have more time, that they can rebuild everything they once had, that he can help Kihyun smile again, like he used to.

 

But he can’t.

 

Just like he knew, just like he has always known, Kihyun will be taken away from him one day. No one is meant to last in the world they live in, and Hoseok is sort of okay with that. He has no other choice.

 

But now –

 

He wishes it didn’t happen so soon. So sudden.

 

He thought he had worked this out in his head, accepted losing Kihyun the day he walked away from him a lifetime ago, but when Kihyun is here, so close, Hoseok realizes that he never quite accepted it. And now he is there, right in front of him, tangible, real, beautiful in his misery and everything Hoseok could ever hope for, and yet – he can’t do anything.

 

He is pathetically, undeniably helpless.

 

And Kihyun will suffer for it.

 

Kihyun _is_ suffering for it.

 

_I am dying._

It is a plea for help, a desperate cry as much as anything, but Hoseok can’t take his pain away anymore than he can fix the cause in the first place – he can’t decontaminate the country, he can’t go back in time, and he can’t restore Kihyun’s lungs to what they should be.

 

Kihyun isn’t done.

 

“You’ve seen it, I don’t have much time left, but here – you – can you fucking stop playing the hero, this is not just my fault!”

 

He swallows thickly, fights off another cough – with minimal success, blood still drips down his chin, but he wipes it off with a trembling hand before raising his head to glare at Hoseok.

 

“I never stopped loving you,” he grits out. “How dare you say anything else! How dare you say that now! What the fuck have you been doing since I returned, then? You think you can treat me just like anyone else, a toy when you want to and a menace when you’re tired? You want to pretend like I’m the one who doesn’t care about us anymore?”

 

“You left,” Hoseok protests, feeling his own hackles rising. In a way, the fallout has been a long time coming, and Kihyun is not the only one with pent up emotions about this. How many times has he thought about Kihyun since he disappeared? How many times has he wondered what would have happened if Kihyun stayed? How many nights did he spend in solitude, longing for a company he once thought he would share forever? “You left me alone, and then you show up as if nothing’s happened? Did you really think it was that easy?”

 

“When I left I wanted to take you with me, but you refused!” Kihyun almost shrieks, banging his fist against the wall behind him, leaving bloody prints and the shelves rattling. “I wanted to get out – I wanted _us_ to get away from this hell, but you refused! You wanted to stay here and rot! I wanted to live!”

 

Hoseok huffs and throws his arms out, gesticulating at the blood specks, Kihyun’s cowering shape – the evidence of his failure. “And did you succeed? It certainly doesn’t look like it! Instead, you’re coming crawling back hoping I’d welcome you with open arms? Are you really that naïve?”

 

“I would have come back for you either way!” Kihyun wails, and his voice is so rough, thin but loud and grueling. “I couldn’t – I didn’t want to leave you! But I thought that if I came back with an escape… You would come with me...”

 

He looks down at his hands. Scarred, pale, bloody.

 

“Instead I came back with this… A time limit, even shorter than it used to be. No exit, no hope. And you wouldn’t even look at me without contempt.”

 

“It would have helped if you didn’t rent your poor services to the Rhino,” Hoseok says, putting every ounce of disgust and anger he has into the moniker. “If you’d come straight back… I might have been able to forgive you.”

 

“If I didn’t have to, I wouldn’t work for him,” Kihyun shakes his head, but his tone is less aggressive, more defeated – resigned, as if the fight has gone out of him. “But he… He could give me a cure.”

 

And Hoseok knows that should explain everything, should excuse Kihyun’s persistence and unreasonable request. It sounds like it should be the last argument, Kihyun’s winning closing statement, but it’s not enough.

 

Hoseok understands, but he still doesn’t accept it.

 

Kihyun’s body is tearing down from the inside out, and after everything, he is still clinging to that final hope that there is a solution – an escape from a certain death.

 

But there is no escape – only temporary reprieve. And at what cost? How far is Kihyun willing to go to prolong his life, if only a little?

 

It’s too much. Hoseok doesn’t want to see Kihyun shrink and fade away like this, but if that is the only way…

 

He won’t sanction it.

 

“It’s not going to be worth it,” he says, at last, and something shifts in Kihyun’s expression.

 

“You’re not – “ Kihyun starts, but cuts himself off with a cough, once again sending a spray of red over his hands. “I thought – when I came back, I thought I’d at least… I thought I could do something to make up for it. To reclaim the time we lost. I thought I could make it up to you.”

 

“Not like this,” Hoseok shakes his head sadly. “Never like this. You should have come here to begin with. This is below the Kihyun I knew.”

 

“You’re no better than me, Hoseok,” Kihyun says, frowning, sliding down the wall just a little, as if his body is too weary to hold him up. “You’re the one selling this stuff, after all. I’m not pulling the trigger any more than you are.”

 

“What you are doing is different, and you know it.”

 

It is.

 

Anyone can buy from Hoseok, in theory, but he evaluates every customer walking through that door, considers every trade before he makes it. He is no saint, far from it – but most people looking to purchase from him are only after small, personal victories, like a final triumph to mark their passing in this world or something to soothe their worries. An awaited fulfilment of vengeance, an end to their own pain, a way of protecting themselves, if only for a while, against the dangers out there.

 

Hoseok doesn’t like it, but regardless of what he does, it happens. This way, he can turn people’s destructive impulses to something good.

 

He doesn’t enable the mass murdering of innocents – not like Kihyun would.

 

Not like Kihyun would allow the Rhino to do.

 

Hoseok can turn a blind eye to the consequences of his sale if it means a homicide, at worst – Kihyun will have a genocide at his conscience.

 

Although Hoseok can see that the years have changed Kihyun far more than he thought, he still doesn’t think Kihyun would be able to live with that guilt for the rest of his life, however brief that may be.

 

“You think it is different,” Kihyun argues, not aggressively like before, but patient, like always when he is trying to prove a particular point. Hoseok hates it. Hates that Kihyun still thinks he can convince him, like he used to, when they were children and Kihyun’s eloquence beat Hoseok’s imagination. “But how many deaths have you caused since you started this business? How many people have you taken advantage of? I’m a middle-man, Hoseok, just like you. I’m not anymore responsible for this than you are.”

 

“You’re wrong,” Hoseok insists. “You know what he’s going to do. His targets – they haven’t done anything to deserve this. I give out a limited capacity of bullets, not to lunatics, but regular people.”

 

Kihyun barks out a laugh, shrill and hysteric. “You don’t know that, Hoseok. That’s just what you think – and what about afterwards? Ammunition can be bought cheaply. You don’t know who the victims are, or where your goods go afterwards.” He pauses. “I’m not accusing you of anything. I understand – and it’s shit, simple as that. But don’t antagonize me like this, please. Sometimes, you just… Gotta do what you have to do.”

 

“And sometimes that is to make a stand,” Hoseok states, trying to convey his conviction – his final argument on the matter. “You don’t have to go back, Kihyun. You don’t have to do this.”

 

“I’m doing it for us – “

 

“I don’t want this.”

 

And that shuts Kihyun up. He looks at Hoseok, imploringly, looking weaker than Hoseok has seen him since he returned – so worn, so tired, so wounded.

 

“You don’t want me to survive,” Kihyun says then, and it breaks Hoseok’s heart. “It’s true… You really don’t love me anymore.”

 

He stumbles to his feet again, looking at Hoseok with a mix of fright and hurt, and it sends daggers through Hoseok’s chest and dries his mouth to ash. None of his flowers, none of them combined could ever make him hurt as much as Kihyun’s broken little sob, the defeat in his shoulders, the tear tracks down his face.

 

All of it. Caused by Hoseok.

 

But worse yet, Hoseok knows it’s the right decision.

 

And _that’s_ the most devastating part.

 

He’s doing the right thing – and the right thing isn’t to save Kihyun.

 

But Kihyun doesn’t understand that.

 

Hoseok wishes there was something he could say, something to convince him, to make it okay. He is angry with Kihyun, angry with his selfishness and for letting himself be used as a tool like this, but even as Kihyun says it, Hoseok knows it can never be true – he can never stop loving Kihyun. Whatever’s happened, they still share too much for that.

 

Kihyun is moving, dragging his feet along the wall, in a wide arch away from Hoseok, towards the door, making to leave. More than anything, Hoseok wants him to stay, to let him prove that although things have changed, they can still have each other –

 

But Kihyun flinches back when Hoseok moves closer, raising an arm as if struck, looking at Hoseok like a complete stranger.

 

“N-no,” he stutters, licking his lips slightly. They probably taste like stale metal. “Don’t – I’m just going to leave.”

 

“You’re wrong,” Hoseok says, carefully, quietly. “I do love you.”

 

“I wish that was true.”

 

“I don’t want you to die.”

 

“I wish that was true as well.”

 

“Kihyun – “

 

“Hoseok, _please,_ ” Kihyun whines, not like he used to, not playfully or needy or eagerly – just desperate. He reaches for the door and pulls it open. “Just – just let me go.”

 

Hoseok doesn’t want to. He wants to pull Kihyun back in, force him to stay, convince him that they can be okay, if only for a little while, that he still cares so much – that they can find a new solace in each other, not like what they had before, but deep, meaningful, and earnest nonetheless.

 

But he can’t do that.

 

Kihyun isn’t going to let him do anything like that now.

 

So instead, Hoseok only sighs, nodding his head.

 

“Okay.”

 

And Kihyun disappears, just like that, leaving only a drying, sad trail of blood in his wake.

 

Hoseok is alone again.

 

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

 

Minhyuk is teaching a young child how to navigate the subways using his hands when Hoseok rushes down the stairs, into the dark and away from the burning light.

 

The child is blind.

 

The child was born without eyes.

 

“Hoseok,” Minhyuk looks up, puts a hand on the child’s shoulder. “What’s going on?”

 

“Kihyun,” is all Hoseok says, but it’s enough for Minhyuk’s expression to shift, turn into something more worried and usher the child away. She clings to him like a safety blanket, but when Minhyuk calls one of the other children over, they take her by her hands and escort her away.

 

“What has he done now?” Minhyuk asks, carefully, and Hoseok knows he doesn’t want to hear the answer – not really. He is afraid, and Hoseok can’t blame him.

 

So many things to be afraid of.

 

If Kihyun got what he wanted – from Hoseok, or some unknown source; if he attacked Hoseok, if he broke into the shop.

 

If he died yet.

 

“Nothing,” Hoseok shakes his head and follows Minhyuk down the corridors. There is an alcove, a kind of grove in the wall further in, isolated from the camp and the entrance and decent enough for the two of them to continue their conversation. “He hasn’t done anything.”

 

“Okay?”

 

“I keep rejecting him,” Hoseok elaborates, slowly, measuring his words as he goes. “He is not getting the pesticide. But… Apparently that was his lifeline. The Rhino let him live for a while longer, but unless he succeeds, he’s not going to survive for much longer.”

 

Minhyuk catches on quickly. “That’s not your responsibility.”

 

“I could have just killed him myself,” Hoseok says, sadly, shaking his head. “I refused him the remedy… I sentenced him to die.”

 

“It’s for the best,” Minhyuk says gently. “I know it’s Kihyun, but… Think about all the people you’re saving.”

 

“But think about the one I’m not saving,” Hoseok retorts, voice raising. “All this time, and now that he’s finally back… I’m the one denying him another chance at living. I betrayed him.”

 

“He’s had his chances,” Minhyuk sighs. “I’m not saying he squandered them. It’s just the way things are.”

 

“Why can’t I save both him and the children?”

 

“Because this isn’t a fairytale.”

 

And Hoseok hates it.

 

Hates the world, everything and everyone in it, hates that he feels like this and that Kihyun is dying and he can’t do anything about it, hates the Rhino and his false promises and hates Kihyun’s dreams and aspirations and – and…

 

He hates himself just a little bit.

 

Because Minhyuk is right.

 

For the first time, he allows himself to break down and cry about it all.

 

Minhyuk is there, patting his back and brushing his fingers through Hoseok’s hair the entire time, but he still feels so terribly, painfully alone.

 

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

 

Kihyun has not even made it through his door the next time before he falls over in a wheezing, messy heap. 

 

Hoseok hears something bang against his door and a small yelp, and barely takes the time to tug his scarf over his nose before storming out. As soon as he opens the door, Kihyun falls against him, gasping and twitching at his feet with one hand at his throat and the other uselessly grabbing at his cloak in fervent motions.

 

Hoseok is on his knees in seconds, pulling Kihyun up to lean against the wall while prying his fingers away from his throat.

 

“Hey, calm down,” he starts, dragging his hand across Kihyun’s forehead. Damp with cold sweat. “Kihyunnie, calm down. Breathe. It’s okay. Just breathe, slowly.”

 

Kihyun opens his eyes at that, panic dissipating for just a second, enough for him to glare at Hoseok in a distinctly familiar manner before looking away again as his breaths struggle to take in enough oxygen to keep his body functioning.

 

It’s not very efficient, and Hoseok puts his hand on Kihyun’s chest after that, forcing Kihyun to take slow breaths in time with his gentle movements.

 

“Slowly, breathe. That’s it. You’ll be fine.”

 

Except Kihyun isn’t fine.

 

They both know it, and Hoseok’s promise is a weak mockery of comfort, an insult to the unspoken truth they both feel in the air as tangible as the smog that only exacerbates this travesty.

 

But he means well, and the familiar words send a sob through Kihyun’s chest, making him arch his neck backwards to force himself closer to Hoseok’s warm touch. He isn’t fine, and he won’t be fine.

 

It’s something he doesn’t say, and Hoseok doesn’t comment on it. But slowly, eventually, Hoseok’s gentle movements coax him into a momentary pull of security, finally feeling his chest open little by little as each breath comes slightly easier, proves to be slightly more fruitful, eases his pain just a tiny bit more until he is left with a numb, bruising pressure instead of aggressive stabs. 

 

“That’s it,” Hoseok encourages, placing a small kiss on Kihyn’s brow without thinking. “You’re doing great.”

 

He isn’t sure if Kihyun hears his words or not – his face is scrunched together in concentration as he tries to regain a semblance of a rhythm to his breaths.

 

“Can you walk?” Hoseok asks tentatively, and it’s almost a stupid question, because Kihyun doesn’t seem to be in a state to do anything much right now besides surviving for another second.

 

But Kihyun is stubborn and proud, and Hoseok is going to give him the dignity of a choice.

 

The response is delayed as Kihyun struggles to swallow a new mouthful of poisoned air, but eventually, he nods and glances up at Hoseok. Searching his face, for confirmation, permission, strength – Hoseok doesn’t know, but he hopes he can give Kihyun whatever he needs. 

 

And perhaps Kihyun does. His eyes harden, not with coldness but determination as he tightens the fingers clutching at Hoseok’s jacket and braces himself on the ground with the other hand. It looks like just getting up is a monumental struggle, but Kihyun perseveres, groaning and panting and hanging on to Hoseok as they rise together, slowly but surely. Kihyun stumbles just a little bit, but Hoseok is there, supporting his shoulders and ghosting over his waist, probably helping more than Kihyun would like, but none of them say that out loud.

 

They somehow stumble on inside, and don’t even wait to hear the click of the door falling shut.

 

Hoseok kicks open the door leading to his sparse sleeping chambers, keeping Kihyun steady and upright as they move, and Kihyun is almost featherlight in his grip. His breaths still come out wheezy and wet against Hoseok’s neck, but at least they’re still there. At least Kihyun hasn’t stilled yet.

 

The room is small enough that a few steps take them over to the cot, the small, sad little thing, and Hoseok gently lowers Kihyun to lie down on it. The pillow is a little bit too thin, so he rolls up a sweater and places it under Kihyun’s neck to elevate him a little, ease his breaths ever so slightly.

 

When Kihyun looks up at him, his eyes are filled with gratitude, and Hoseok allows himself to melt a little bit under the soft, wounded gaze.

 

Kihyun shouldn’t be like this.

 

Kihyun shouldn’t be reduced to this.

 

Hoseok sighs and sits down at the edge of the cot, legs folding in under him awkwardly, and puts a hand in Kihyun’s hair, petting it gently as Kihyun wills his body to regain its composure.

 

“You’ll be okay,” Hoseok murmurs again, uselessly, but Kihyun seems to relax a little bit under his touch anyway. The lines between his brows unfurl slowly as Hoseok drags his fingers across Kihyun’s forehead in a soft, sweet caress, gentle as if Kihyun could break from the smallest touch, like a small, fragile bird.

 

A brave little songbird.

 

Hoseok’s songbird.

 

Kihyun’s skin is warm, not burning like a furnace – _yet,_ but it’s more than the tepidness of Hoseok’s fingers, and Hoseok knows it’s only going to get worse. Both he and Kihyun knows the words of reassurance are empty, heavy lies, but he’ll keep saying them nonetheless.

 

At least until Kihyun finally gives in.

 

He has to.

 

“You can’t go back,” Hoseok says quietly, carding his fingers through Kihyun’s hair again. “You won’t make it.”

 

“I can’t go back without the pesticide,” Kihyun half-agrees, weakly, but his voice sounds so weak and rough that Hoseok knows he is resigned. Like whatever he says is just a repeat, automated response ingrained in him by the last straws of desperation.

 

“You won’t make it back,” Hoseok repeats as gently as he can, trying not to sound accusing. “With or without the pesticide.”

 

Kihyun makes a small, strangled sort of noise, sounding half like a sob caught in his throat and a scratched mewl. But the tension bleeds out of his shoulders, eased out by Hoseok’s gentle touch and the slow realization that he has lost – well and truly forever, this time.

 

Hoseok knows Kihyun didn’t think he would be able to persuade him this time either, knows Kihyun was aware of exactly how futile his insistence was. After the last time Kihyun came by, Hoseok wasn’t even sure if he would see him again – Kihyun had no reason to return. And yet he came – dared to entertain that small sliver of false hope just enough to justify his final trek to Hoseok’s flower shop at the very edge of his life.

 

It is sad, but gratifying – Hoseok’s trust in Kihyun has not been misplaced.

 

It has been reciprocated, little as it matters.

 

And if nothing else, Hoseok feels a slight relief in that knowledge, at the end of it all.

 

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

 

“I wasn’t in a good state when I tried to make it back,” Kihyun starts, slowly, quietly, as if he is just warming up for a bigger story. “But they… I met someone who said they could help. They took me to _him_ , and I agreed, because I had just lost my one chance at getting out… I put all my faith into the border, but instead, they denied us, shot at us when we refused to leave, and only two of us made it out alive. And all I could think of was that I wanted to keep living, and my time was running out – then the Rhino’s men found us. He made a deal with me. He gave me the medicine in exchange for my services – he gave me life.”

 

“What kind of life was that?” Hoseok brushes his hand through Kihyun’s sweat-soaked hair. The fever is setting in as his lungs deteriorate a little more every hour. “A life full of disease and violence? What do you get out of this besides living to see another death at your own hands?”

 

Kihyun stares at him, hard. His eyes are shining and tearful, from the coughs or emotions, Hoseok can’t tell. But he sees the affection, the sadness, the pain spiraling in those eyes as clear as day.

 

“I get to not die. I’m afraid to die.”

 

“Everyone dies,” Hoseok argues, still as gently as he can, soft, as if Kihyun will break in his hands if he talks too harshly. It didn’t use to be like that. It used to be the other way around. “Even you. Even me.”

 

Kihyun shakes his head, hair scratching against the rough fabric of the pillow. “But it hurts. It’s only going to get worse… And there is so much I couldn’t do…”

 

“Like what?”

 

“Like – “ Kihyun starts, but is interrupted by a cough, two coughs, a long gasp and a gurgle, and Hoseok tips some water into his mouth. The tears are falling freely now, and it really does sound painful. Hoseok wishes Kihyun didn’t have to go through this – wishes he could do something more than just sit there, assisting, guiding Kihyun to the end of his life with a comforting hand.

 

But if that’s all he can do, he will do it properly.

 

“I wanted to so much,” Kihyun rasps once he has regained control of his breaths. His voice is so raw now, abused and tired and not at all like the soft lilt Hoseok grew up with and loved. “Mostly, I just… I wanted to live happily. Unthreatened. Not dying.”

 

He pauses, and looks up at Hoseok. “I wanted to live with you.”

 

Hoseok frowns. “But we did live together before you – “

 

“No, not like that,” Kihyun cuts him off with a grueling sigh. “I wanted a happy ending with you. Somewhere we could live in peace… But that was naïve. And then I just wanted to see you again.”

 

“You could have just come here,” Hoseok says, leaning down to plant a small kiss on Kihyun’s nose, smiling a little when Kihyun makes a satisfied noise. “You didn’t have to try to… I could have taken care of you if you just came back here. You didn’t need to work for that person.”

 

Kihyun sniffles. “I did,” he whispers, voice so quiet, so small, so fragile, and Hoseok can’t help but drag his fingers across Kihyun’s brow again, attempting to smooth it out. “I wouldn’t have made it back if it wasn’t for him. I would have died out there, at least he let me keep going a little while longer. At least he got me back to you. And if I succeeded, he could have… He could have given us even more time.”

 

“But what about them?”

 

“What about them? Who’s them?”

 

“Don’t do that. Think about all the poor, the orphans, Kihyun,” Hoseok frowns. “What if I said yes? The pesticide would blow them all to pieces. Would you really accept that? You were one of them, once.”

 

“So were you,” Kihyun argues weakly. “Do you not remember the feeling of slowly wasting away, down in the slums and the streets poisoned by death? Do you not remember the misery? The pain?”

 

He shakes his head and lets out another cough string of coughs this time, and it sounds like something is stuck in his chest. Hoseok is at his side immediately, pulling Kihyun’s shoulders upright and holding a handkerchief in front of his mouth to catch the spatters of blood with each wrecking hack. It’s a painful sound, painful tremors, and Hoseok’s lungs almost feel sore just from the sounds of it.

 

Kihyun’s hands closes around Hoseok’s wrist, gripping it weakly with shaking fingers as the coughs subside, and his head falls limply to rest on Hoseok’s shoulder.

 

“I can help them,” he mutters. “It would be a relief I wish I had when we were there. Quick, painless, oblivious death – they wouldn’t have to suffer like we did. Like I’ve done – like I still do. They could disappear, without having to be afraid.”

 

“Without getting a chance,” Hoseok says, shaking his head and rubbing his chin in Kihyun’s hair. “We got a chance. They deserve one, too. Think about it – a chance to do the things you wanted to do. Maybe they will succeed.”

 

“That’s impossible. There is nothing here, for anyone. Only more disappointment and suffering. I was young and dumb and didn’t know any better, but we can save them from delusions and hopeless lives built on lies.”

 

“Stop that,” Hoseok sighs. “You don’t mean all of this, Kihyun, you’re just trying to justify your actions. You were scared, I get that. But it’s too late now.”

 

“It’s too late,” Kihyun agrees, clutches Hoseok’s wrist tighter. “I’m going to die. I’m going to die in your bed, and it will hurt like hell, and you will watch me until all that’s left of me is a sorry, pathetic shell of a man.”

 

“You’re right, you’re going to die,” Hoseok says, clutches Kihyun a little bit closer to his chest as he echoes the verdict, as he acknowledges the inevitable. It almost pains him to say it as well, but he knows the ache in his chest is nothing against the blazing fire in Kihyun’s lungs. Maybe it will be a relief for him to finally let go. “But I’ll be here with you, the entire time.”

 

“You’re a shit nurse.”

 

“I’m a florist, not a nurse.”

 

“Touché.”

 

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

 

“Wonho,” the man says, and his voice is silken, cool and smooth in the sharp light filtering through grey and yellow clouds. He’s not wearing a mask, so Hoseok hears his words clear as day. “I hear you’ve been stubborn.”

 

“I am a businessman,” Hoseok shrugs. “I have valuable goods, I know to get the prices I deserve.”

 

“That’s not what we heard,” the man insists, still smiling so brightly, eyes still so black. He hasn’t taken out his weapon yet, but Hoseok sees the automatic hanging from a leather strap around his torso. It’s there for show, to make a point, and Hoseok knows exactly what that point is. “We heard you refused to make business. We heard you refused any price.”

 

Hoseok sighs and makes a show out of scratching his head. He never doubted that Kihyun reported everything to his superiors – and why wouldn’t he? He had his priorities sorted according to his ambitions, and Hoseok doesn’t really fault him for doing his job properly, though he despises the intended endgame. “My prices are about more than just the money I get in return.”

 

“Come on now, Wonho,” the man says, clicking his tongue in a faux show of fond exasperation. Kihyun does it way better. “Don’t play the saint, it doesn’t suit this day and age. We won’t target this side of the city.”

 

As if.

 

As if the promise means anything, an escape route or a promise of sanctity to the hidden sewers and underground tunnels serving as shelters to the weak, as if lines are drawn and compassion has any place in their wretched, helpless existence.

 

As if this desperation hadn’t driven Hoseok’s dearest person to the edge of humanity for the vague hope of just surviving one more day.

 

Their reassurances mean nothing.

 

“My answer is the same,” he bites out, slowly dropping the façade of politeness as the man grows increasingly impatient. “No. No.”

 

“We don’t have to do this on friendly terms,” the man suggests, resting his hand on the automatic. “I hear your friend needs something we have. Don’t you want that?”

 

“He doesn’t need it.”

 

“Liar.”

 

It doesn’t hurt at all – shouldn’t, anyway, because Hoseok doesn’t care about this man or what he thinks about Hoseok’s credibility. But he does feel a pang at the words, because his mind immediately goes back to Kihyun, leaning over his counter, convincing Hoseok that he still loved him.

 

This is a mockery of that scene, and not similar at all, really, but rationality has long since been thrown out of the window.

 

“My answer remains the same.”

 

“Your shop is nothing extraordinary,” the man starts, brows furrowed and lips twitching in frustration. “We can get in and take what we want. We don’t have to pay you, so you better accept our offer quickly.”

 

“You absolutely cannot go in and just take whatever you want.” Hoseok shakes his head. “It’s hidden, and disassembled. Unless you have an expert, you’re never going to make it work even if you find it.”

 

“Is that so?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“How do I know you’re not bluffing?”

 

Hoseok smiles.

 

“You don’t, but I’m guessing at this point, it doesn’t matter. It won’t change what you are going to do to me, after all.”

 

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

 

When Hoseok sneaks back inside, Kihyun is asleep, resting fitfully under the covers and frowning a little through dry breaths and small trembles. He looks so weak, and the sounds are even worse, and Hoseok kind of wishes he could block it all out for a while, just to remain sane.

 

But he can’t, and he owes Kihyun this much.

 

It’s not a notion he’s comfortable with, but it’s all he has to go on, and after locking the door to the shop, he remains at Kihyun’s bedside until the evening. Kihyun wakes up, occasionally, in small, confused periods of time, borderline delirious and definitely not realizing why Hoseok is there still.

 

It’s heartbreaking.

 

By the time night rolls around, he wakes again, this time with more clarity, although there is still an exhaustion weighing him down, leaving his muscles tired and aching and unresponsive, and Hoseok can see exactly how much of a struggle it is just to keep his eyes open and focused on Hoseok.

 

“Do you think we could have been happy? Somewhere else?” Kihyun rasps out as he blinks against the candlelight, fever creating a sheen of sweat that leaves his skin looking flush, shiny, unreal. Hoseok replaces the cold cloth on his forehead.

 

“Probably,” he says. “If we didn’t have to deal with all of this – I can’t imagine what else we would fight about.”

 

“We would fight,” Kihyun snorts, triggering a small string of coughs. Hoseok rubs his shoulder gently.

 

“About what?”

 

“I don’t know…” Kihyun wrinkles his nose, but Hoseok can hear the strain on his vocal chords as he keeps talking. “I guess… Food. Imagine fighting over food.”

 

“That must have been a happy world indeed,” Hoseok smiles. “If we didn’t have bigger worries I think we’d live pretty good lives.”

 

“Yeah,” Kihyun agrees quietly. “That sounds… Good. So good.”

 

His eyes are sliding shut, slowly, as if he’s fighting his body’s impulses, and it’s tear-jerking how taxing even such a small task as staying awake has become for the man who was once Hoseok’s equal. Hoseok’s companion, Hoseok’s partner in crime.

 

Once upon a time, Kihyun was the one who would prod Hoseok awake in the middle of the night, eyes wide and excited and sparkling as he dragged Hoseok outside to look at the light filtering through smog, creating colours and specters like a piece of art instead of a cloud of poison.

 

Other times, Hoseok would fall asleep to the lullabies Kihyun learned from the older children, some he made up himself, and some that were not so much lullabies as just empty melodies Kihyun improvised on the spot. It had been peaceful, gratifying back then, even if Hoseok didn’t appreciate it for what it was.

 

Occasionally, Minhyuk or someone else would be there – participating in their little raids, excursions, mischievous adventures, anything at all they could do to keep their days occupied. But mostly, consistently, it was the two of them. The two of them against the world.

 

Hoseok didn’t need to look after Kihyun in the same way back then. Kihyun looked after himself – and Kihyun looked after Hoseok. They were equal. Where Hoseok was strong, Kihyun was cunning, and where Kihyun’s body betrayed his will, Hoseok’s courage faltered.

 

But together, they were invincible.

 

Not so much anymore.

 

It seems the world got tired of their cockiness and decided to pull them back down to the ground, dragging their faces in the dirt and bruising their knees in the process.

 

But no, that’s not really true – if they thought about it, they would know. They would always know.

 

No one survives for long like this.

 

And Kihyun is fighting a losing battle.

 

His eyelashes flutter, but he keeps looking up at Hoseok, determined to stay awake for a little longer, and it’s the saddest, most endearing thing Hoseok has ever seen.

 

“It’s okay, Kihyunnie,” he says, smiling, and cups Kihyun’s cheek carefully. He tries to ignore the sharp, hollow noises emanating from Kihyun’s chest every time he draws breath. “You can sleep. I’ll be right here.”

 

“Hurts. I’m tired…” The whisper is almost drowned as Kihyun leans into Hoseok’s palm, but Hoseok hears him just fine.

 

“I know,” he says, feeling his own eyes tearing up just a little. “It’s okay.”

 

Though his eyes refuse to leave Kihyun’s face, he glimpses a slight movement in the periphery of his vision – Kihyun’s hand, crawling towards him, reaching out. Hoseok takes the trembling hand in his own, gives it a gentle squeeze, just to let Kihyun know.

 

_I’m here. I’m not going anywhere._

“Hoseok…” Kihyun’s eyes threaten fall shut. “I do love you…”

 

Hoseok smiles, even as his teardrops fall on Kihyun’s hand, startlingly cold in the oppressing heat of the room, startlingly wet and sudden and brutal.

 

“I love you too, Kihyunnie. Sleep well.”

 

Kihyun does. He closes his eyes and his breaths even out, and Hoseok lets himself weep.

 

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

 

Time passes slowly for Hoseok.

 

He doesn’t have any reliable ways of keeping track of time besides the forgotten hourglass on the counter of the shop, but he knows it has been too many hours since Kihyun was last conscious. He has had restless moments, small mumbles and displeased shifts beneath the thick blankets, but nothing coherent, and his breaths are coming in long, rasping gasps now. Each one sounds like a draining fight, enough to waste whatever precious energy Kihyun’s body has managed to retain up until this point.

 

Hoseok tried to get some liquid into him earlier, but mere seconds later saw the water spilling across the bed as the coughs returned and Hoseok had to turn Kihyun’s body on the side to keep him from choking.

 

But with the fever and exaggerated gasps, Kihyun is getting severely dehydrated, and it’s only adding to the pile of distressing effects of his body shutting down on him.

 

It’s nothing Hoseok did not anticipate, but it still feels very frustrating to only sit by Kihyun’s side and watch as the life slowly drains away. Nothing he does is helping, doesn’t even relieve the pain a little bit from the looks of it. Kihyun’s brows are knotted together, pale and twitching, his lips chapped and broken, blood stains still visible where Hoseok’s sloppy attempts to wipe it away didn’t complete the job.

 

Once, Kihyun was strong.

 

Once, Kihyun ran alongside Hoseok down these haunted streets, showed him around and let himself be wrestled to the ground and only putting up a small fight. He laughed and shouted and sang with such vigor that Hoseok allowed himself to believe that they were both invincible.

 

They reached a milestone when they hit half of their life expectancy, but they were still so young, so silly and confident and it couldn’t even occur to them that in only a few years, things would get different. They saw it all around them, but refused to acknowledge the obvious, the inevitable, the tragedy looming in the distance not just for them – but everyone.

 

Hoseok can’t recall if they believed in a happy ending, or if they just didn’t think an ending was conceivable at all.

 

Different times – for them, but truly, the world hasn’t changed at all.

 

It was wretched back then, and it still is.

 

The scars on Hoseok’s hands serve as testimonies, the nightmares and lucid fears, the indifference, the impending death of his best friend in the back room of a sad, broken excuse for a flower shop.

 

He reaches out and takes Kihyun’s hand between both of his. It is cold, clammy and trembling, but Kihyun doesn’t even twitch at the touch. Hoseok didn’t expect him to, but it is still disheartening.

 

“We had a good run,” he says, quietly. Lifts Kihyun’s hand to his lips and whisper into the raw skin. “We had a good run.”

 

He wonders what would have happened if Kihyun’s lungs didn’t collapse the way they did. If he would have found his way back to Hoseok’s shop, if he would have joined the Rhino in the first place, if he would have gotten lost in the great, great world and died from a falling brick or drowned in a sea far beyond this city, far away from Hoseok. Or maybe he would have come back to Hoseok fully whole, smiling and unconcerned, and as healthy as could be –

 

And then he would watch Hoseok die, because they are on the clock, drawing out their destiny with each passing year, month, day.

 

It doesn’t matter who dies first, or why.

 

They had a good run.

 

One of his hands disentangle from Kihyun’s limp one, moves down to caress a feverish cheek. Soft skin, but sharp bone, fanned by matted hair and grease. But Kihyun still looks beautiful, in a grotesque, sad manner.

 

Like a broken doll, or wounded sparrow.

 

Enticing, vulnerable, reminiscent of something that was once so much more.

 

Kihyun isn’t going to wake up again, Hoseok knows.

 

It’s a thought he has tried to suppress, tried to push forward, to the future, a problem for another hour, but he’s tired of lying to himself. Kihyun is practically dead already – halfway there, just passing through purgatory for a brutal, helpless world of pain.

 

Hoseok pulls out his knife from the sheath on his belt. Well-maintained, shiny and clean, almost razor-sharp and probably his most prized possession. It was the first one he pilfered, found on a rotting corpse on the side of the road when he and Kihyun were just kids, didn’t really understand the significance of a weapon in immediate reach. He almost gave it to Kihyun back then, because Kihyun was smaller, didn’t have Hoseok’s awkward, building muscles and quick growth, but then he decided to keep it for himself. So he could protect Kihyun instead.

 

So he could fight for Kihyun if he had to.

 

He looks over at Kihyun again.

 

Still so pained, so lost, so scared even in this restless sleep.

 

Suffering.

 

Hoseok raises the knife and puts it to Kihyun’s throat, resting the cool metal against flushed skin. Angles it slightly to run parallel to an old scar there, one that Hoseok doesn’t know, that he will never know. It mocks him, tells him that Kihyun has been places after he left Hoseok behind, Kihyun let himself get hurt when Hoseok wasn’t there to cover his back, that the world is and will always be bigger than the two of them.

 

Once upon a time, it wasn’t.

 

They could do anything.

 

Now, they can do nothing.

 

Hoseok, immobilized, Kihyun, already gone.

 

Almost – he will be, should be, and Hoseok will push him across the final stretch of his journey. He owes him that much, after all their years together. It’s only fitting that it’s Hoseok. Kihyun would want it to be Hoseok.

 

It’s an almost self-indulgent thought, but he knows it to be true. Above all, Kihyun detested the misery, the slow, drawn-out feeling of dying in plain sight, obvious for the world to see. He did – faded out a little more for every passing day for who knows how long.

 

Possibly even while he was still with Hoseok – before he even left, so long ago.

 

There is a loud whine outside.

 

Hoseok pushes the knife against the soft, pale pink skin just a little bit heavier. Just enough to draw a line of blood, thin, red, swelling slowly under the metal, tearing the flesh in just the blink of an eye.

 

That’s Kihyun’s blood, Hoseok realizes with startling clarity. Kihyun’s blood on his knife, on his fingers, broken free thanks to him.

 

He has seen Kihyun bleed before – has seen him bleed and bruise and shatter many times before, during the dangerous years of their youth. Hoseok has seen others draw Kihyun’s blood, and he has seen Kihyun trip or fall or be unfortunate enough to stand in the way of malevolent forces of chance.

 

And he has seen Kihyun recover from it all, still smiling and full of reassurances and mockery, thrown Hoseok’s promises of good health back at him when their roles reversed.

 

Now, he has even seen Kihyun spiral into decay, blood staining lips and chin and hands, lingering on the wooden panels outside in his shop, haunting him every day since Kihyun returned. He has seen Kihyun’s life drain out from him so many times, been so helpless to stop it, until now – and it is already too late.

 

But Hoseok has never seen Kihyun’s blood spill because of him.

 

Images flash before his eyes as he freezes, the smell of copper ripe in his nose, Kihyun’s eyelashes fluttering so softly in the glum light, his skin delicate under Hoseok’s touch.

 

He sees a young boy, no more than eight, possibly nine – all twig arms and toothy grins with small holes still, crescent eyes and grabby hands reaching out for Hoseok with a mischievous perseverance. He reaches out, but doesn’t get any closer, and then his throat opens in a vivid waterfall of glorious red, drowning him and staining his big boots red, and Hoseok turns away.

 

He sees Minhyuk, eyes downcast and shoulders trembling, crouching over the still body of a child, a child with sharp cheekbones and small shoulders.

 

He sees Kihyun, kneeling before him with pleading eyes, pleading and terrified and so, so innocent. He is saying something, but Hoseok doesn’t know what, and he looks so desperate, so pained, but his eyes are full of love and devotion, trust, almost and he is begging Hoseok for something –

 

_“I just wanted to live.”_

 

He tears the blade away immediately, tosses it to the other side of the room. It hits the wall with a dull thump, clanks to the floor, but Hoseok isn’t paying attention to it.

 

“I’m sorry, Kihyun,” he says instead, caressing Kihyun’s bony, warm cheek with a trembling hand. “I’m so, so sorry – I can’t help you. I couldn’t help you. I couldn’t protect you.”

 

He leans forward and puts his head on Kihyun’s, letting their foreheads touch, feeling his dry warmth mixing with Kihyun’s perspiring heat. Feels the tremors running through Kihyun’s body, hears his rasping, choked breathing near his ear, the limpness of his body, the lack of an immortal vitality that once characterized a spunk of a boy in a city of death.

 

How useless he is.

 

He couldn’t save Kihyun, he couldn’t ease his terrors, and now Hoseok can’t even help him cross that final bridge, give him his salvation and final peace at last. He knows it is better for Kihyun, knows he shouldn’t have to suffer, but Hoseok is weak, and selfish, and he can’t make himself tear the life away from Kihyun regardless of how much of a relief it would be. After all this time, after all they have done – he still isn’t able to hurt Kihyun.

 

In any shape or form.

 

And he hates himself a little bit for it.

 

“Kihyun, please forgive me.”

 

Kihyun doesn’t.

 

Kihyun can’t.

 

Kihyun is still on the bed and Hoseok cries into his shoulder instead.

 

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

 

The city is quiet, dark in the night and almost sleepy, but he heard the shout.

 

Hoseok steps outside, not bothering to pull up his scarf to cover his mouth and nose, not bothering to check his personal arsenal before leaving the safe confines of the flower shop. The only thing he brings is the candle, flickering softly, innocently and sparking a little at the fumes in the air.

 

He steps outside and sees –

 

Death.

 

He cannot escape it, wherever he goes.

 

“We have given you a last chance, Wonho,” the man with the automatic says. “This is an added bonus.”

 

“Not for you,” Hoseok replies easily, not feeling the slightest tremble in his voice, not betraying the sorrow gnawing at his chest. “The answer is still the same. Negative.”

 

“I suspected as much,” the man clicks his tongue, and the mooks behind him raise their guns, knives, sabers, all pointed towards Hoseok. He recognizes many of them, though their owners are less memorable to him. “Then I guess you suspect what comes next as well.”

 

“I have accepted this already,” Hoseok shrugs, not talking about how he has been ready for this since Kihyun closed his eyes for the last time, how it will be a relief, how he longs for the respite he needs to escape the guilt, the grief, the gaping hole in his chest that was only stretched wider and wider with every labored breath Kihyun drew.

 

How he could have taken himself out already, if only he wasn’t such a coward.

 

It’s a miserable, miserable world.

 

He turns around to walk back inside, head raised high and shoulders squared, but he has only just opened the door when a series of sharp noises precede angry stabs and punctures in his bac, splintering his spine and ribs and lungs – piercing his lungs, killing them, destroying them.

 

It’s a beautiful irony in this, Hoseok thinks as he falls to the ground and the still flickering candle crashes with him, barely brushing the gasoline spread over the floor.

 

And that’s enough.

 

It takes a few seconds, but Hoseok is already gone, his suffering short-lived before there was only nothing, and red seeps from his chest to blend with chemicals and dirt while the fire spreads quickly to the little bundle next to Kihyun’s still form on the bed.

 

All this time, Hoseok has kept it secret, hidden, afraid of its destructive potential.

 

But now.

 

Now he’s unleashing it, breaking it, rendering it useless for future exploiters. He kept it away because he didn’t want to see it unfold, and yet now he’s the one pulling the trigger.

 

That’s fine. He didn’t assemble the full bomb, just enough to take out a little space in the wall, a little home, a small piece of a life already lived and doomed. No one innocent. No one undeserving.

 

No one alive.

 

The flower shop blows up without further ado or spectacle.

 

It’s not big, but it decimates everything inside.

 

And when the smoke clears, all that is left is rubble.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry that you had to read all of that, but thank you anyway! Comments and kudos are received with great love.


End file.
